Nick Carter - Killmaster 002 - The China Doll, page 16
part #2 of Killmaster Series
"Do not fire," Chou Chang's gently reasonable voice called. "You will hit the Daughter of the Dragon."
Wong Fat moaned bitterly.
Nick and Comrade blinked their weary eyelids against the bitter assault of the new light, feeling the intense heat of the high-powered floodlamps beating down on them and sapping their resistance. Defeat had a foul, sour taste after freedom had seemed so close at hand. It was painfully easy to see what had happened. Chou Chang had known they would have to come this way; apart from the heavily guarded front entrance, it was the only way out of the City. He had gambled on them being able to find it, and his gamble had paid off. So he had lain in readiness for them, no doubt with a bunch of hidden armed men and enough lighting for the gaudiest Hollywood premiere. Nick felt a weight at the pit of his stomach. Hopelessness flooded him. Yasunara became unbearably heavy.
Comrade turned and tore futilely at the heavy door, knowing it was hopeless. There was no escape in that direction.
"Dead ducks, Stewart," he said dourly. "Shall we run for it?"
"No, wait," Nick murmured. "Dead ducks is probably right, but if we're going to die let's take that slimy bastard Chou Chang with us. Wherever the hell he is."
As if in answer, Chou Chang's sympathetic, cultured tones floated down from some hidden height above the light-splashed, slippery ground.
"Honored visitors, a few facts. If you will play the game, then you must know the possible moves and the composition of the board. Six .50-caliber machine guns are trained on you as of now. A low-ceilinged underground cavern lies before you, approximately one hundred yards in length. At the far end of it is an upward sloping tunnel, and beyond that, the cold night air and the comparative safety of the tall trees. I am telling you all this in case you decide to run for it. The chances are you will be cut to ribbons before you can advance a yard. On the other hand, if you remain where you are the Guardsmen will come to take you. We can kill you now as you stand there, I assure you, but we would rather wait. Anticipation so improves the experience, when at last it comes. It will be something magnificent. The slayers of his most august, most revered holiness, the Lord Emperor, our god the Mandarin, well deserve to suffer the thousand and one deaths for their foul deed. But perhaps the lovelies of the departed Mandarin's harem will persuade the Mandarin's successor — my humble, insignificant self — to permit you to sample once again the pleasures of the flesh. Perhaps they will even want you to five… today, tomorrow, next week, possibly for many months. Who knows? It is all a game of chance. And the choice is yours."
There was no choice at all.
Wong Fat knew that better than anyone. Pushed far beyond the pale of reason by that mocking voice, by bis fear, by his memory of the monster turtles in the murky tank, he lost his head and ran. With a gurgling, half-human cry, he broke for the far end of the tunnel in headlong, stumbling flight.
"Come back, you fool!" Nick shouted. But the words had hardly left his lips when the dank, hollow atmosphere came apart with a pounding fusillade from a brace of .50-caliber machine guns. It was horrible yet fascinating to watch. Lead whined, chewed and thumped. It came from nowhere, and it reached Wong Fat as if he were a magnet. It was as if some unseen giant hand had clapped down from the heavens to buffet him mercilessly.
His fat body was lifted off its feet, slammed down and picked up again in a blazing crossfire which riddled him and the ground around him. He didn't have a chance, not even time to scream. His fat man's bloody body jerked in death as a hail of bullets ripped angrily into him and went on ripping, shredding him to shapeless pieces. Nick sucked in his breath and turned his head away.
The firing ceased. Echoes of sound slammed back and forth against the unseen cavern walls beyond the brilliant light. Comrade was cursing fluently. Yasunara stirred and struggled awake. Nick set her down on the ground in front of him, found a sensitive nerve, and squeezed. She slumped again.
"Here, Comrade. Take her other arm and hold her close as you can."
"Disgusting," grumbled Comrade, but did as he was bade.
"I know," Nick agreed. "But we might as well make some use of Lute Flower."
"Enjoy the exhibition, friends?" Chou Chang's voice floated down to them. They ignored the question.
"Where does that voice come from, do you reckon?"
"Over near that so-called exit, which incidentally I can no longer see."
"Neither can I. But we know approximately where it is. Let's head for it. Come on, grab your piece of Devil's Daughter."
They walked on slowly, cautiously, underneath the glaring lights, holding the limp body of the Lute Flower between them.
"Remain where you are!" the voice called again. "Release the Daughter of the Dragon immediately. You cannot cover both your bodies with her, from all sides at once — as my guns can cover you."
Obviously. They realized this. But she was something. Almost all they had.
"Comrade."
"Yes?"
"I don't think this is going to work. Let's try something else with her. Like killing her."
Comrade stared. "Then we have absolutely nothing, except a small knife and a whip. At least one of us has a chance to get out of here by using her a shield. And that one should be you, since you…"
"No. I don't want to just get out. I want Chou. In his own crawling, stinking way, he's every bit as dangerous as the Mandarin. Let's see if we can draw him out. And go down fighting, not in some damn torture chamber or running like scared rats."
"Well said, my friend!" Comrade nodded at him approvingly. "I leave the bargaining to you."
"Okay, here goes. And don't forget to hold your breath and try to make a dash for it if I get a chance to yell out 'hold it.' "
"Wha…? Oh, yes!" Comrade remembered.
Yasunara stirred again and shook her head groggily. This time, Nick let her come to, but tightened his hold on her cruelly.
"Comrade — her throat."
Comrade obliged. His great hands tightened on her pretty neck.
Yasunara blinked in the blinding lights and swallowed painfully. And then she realized what was happening. Her lips curled in mockery.
"So," she breathed. "You pigs will die."
"You die with us," said Nick calmly. "Now be quiet. We have business to attend to. You, Chou Chang!" his voice rang through the echoing cavern. "Show yourself. We will bargain with you."
Chou Chang's friendly laughter rolled back to them.
"What is there for you to bargain about? Perhaps you now intend to tell me who employs you? No, my friends. Whatever you try to tell me now, at this late stage, I will not believe. I know the lies of desperation. And I also know that you will never tell the truth. No, your only choice: Stay where you are and hope, or run for it. And pray."
"Then you do not care what happens to Yasunara?" Nick called back resoundingly. "It is nothing to you if she dies? I am sure it is a matter of great concern to her." Yasunara squirmed and cursed. "Show yourself, and close enough so that we can talk like reasonable men. Otherwise her neck is broken." He waited for a moment. "We do not bluff, Chou Chang. We have every cause to loathe this woman and want her dead. A moment's delay from you, and she starts slowly strangling."
Comrade applied pressure. Yasunara screamed like a guilt-ridden soul in hell.
A low, strange murmur rose from the shadows, like the chorus of other souls enduring her torment.
"Out, Chou Chang! If she dies, it is you and you alone who'll be responsible. Come out now, or we kill her now." He paused again. The puzzling murmur became a low rumble of deeply chanting voices. "One more chance, you creeping coward. I offer you the choice you offered us: we stay where we are and strangle her, or we run for it with her between us. If you cut us down with gunfire, you cut her down too! All you have to do is show your face to save her."
Damn the bastard! Was he really here, or was he just a voice hiding somewhere behind a microphone? "All right! We kill!"
A voice like a priest at mass came out of the darkness.
"Show yourself, poor successor to the Mandarin. If harm comes to the Flower of Heaven, you yourself will die! In the name of Buddha, come forth! As we ourselves will do."
Chou Chang stepped out of the shadows at the far end of the cavern and walked slowly toward them across the damply oozing floor. His eyes glittered in the unnatural light, and the thing he pointed at them was a .45.
Comrade gave a gasp of triumph and he released his stranglehold on Yasunara. His arm drew back and Hugo Jr. flew through the air like an arrow from a bow. Chou Chang saw it coming and his nondescript face mirrored his sudden fear. At the last second he twisted his body and dropped to his knees. But not soon enough to save him completely. The knife blow struck him high in the right side, just short of his protecting arm. He screamed, and tore the knife from him.
Nick, off-balance, felt Yasunara squirm within his clutching arm. Suddenly, a curved dagger similar to the Mandarin's, emerged from a fold of her flowing garment and she struck at Nick's forearm. As she turned on him to strike again he slammed a blow into her temple and she fell.
Almost simultaneously, several things happened. Comrade received a knife thrust in the ankle from a Yasunara much less dazed than either Nick or Comrade had thought possible. Twelve figures, robed and cowled, emerged from the shadows into the lights, and the lamps dimmed subtly to a softer brilliance. Yasunara picked herself up and ran to them, hands outstretched. The strange robed men — perhaps the same as those they had seen at the City gates — were of even height and similar characteristics. Faces were smooth, heads bald and shining, and large, dangling keys marked the front of each flowing gown. Nick wondered wildly if these were men of CLAW, or possibly true believers who unwittingly served the Mandarin's cause. Whatever they were, they ringed themselves protectively about Yasunara and made no move toward Comrade and Nick. Their right arms raised in a benediction of some kind and she bowed before them, her elegant disheveled figure strangely humbled.
Nick dropped to his knees and tore the stained bandage off bis toes. An elongated capsule — much thinner but much longer than its rotund cousin Gas Pellet Pierre — fell into his hand. And then the Guardsmen were upon them. They trooped forward on the half-run and surrounded the two agents. Each bore rifles, and each was leveled at Comrade and Nick Carter.
Chou Chang's voice, much less pleasant and controlled, bounced off the dripping walls.
"Quickly, executioners. In line to deal with them."
The fingers of Nick's left hand worked frantically at the small capsule. Hell's bells, something was stuck. Sweat and dust, maybe, had jammed the tiny mechanism.
Comrade looked at Carter.
Nick Carter looked at Comrade.
"Stewart," rumbled Comrade.
"Yes?"
"I know that now we die. I want you to know that I am X-17, once your sworn enemy. But not now. You are a worthy man. We will not have a chance to talk again. So you must understand what I am saying."
"I do, my friend. And thanks. It has been an honor to work with you."
Comrade smiled. His face looked almost happy.
Yasunara, within her protective group, drew her proud figure erect. She stared scornfully at them both.
"Do the tigers now start weeping like puny lambs? Are you women that you must pay fancy compliment to one another? You disgust me."
"As you disgust us, my fine pigeon. You go jump into hell and sleep with the devils. You will be fitting company for each other."
But the time for talk was past.
The Guardsmen raised their rifles.
"Adieu, Stewart," Comrade whispered.
"One last try," said Nick. "We'll take a couple with us, and ride them down to hell."
Comrade threw back his head and laughed.
"May we work as well together there."
The four pairs of eyes before them were flat and menacing.
The cousin of Pierre was stiff and stubborn. But the Mandarin's whip was still clutched in Nick's right hand.
And the hot fights beat down upon them.
Farewell, Good Friend
Chou Chang, behind the line of Guardsmen, clutched his painful side and opened his bland mouth to issue a command.
It never came.
The whip lashed out like a striking cobra and wound itself around the Guardsman on the end of the line nearest Nick. He reeled the fellow in and tore the rifle from his senseless fingers. Comrade had uttered a warlike cry of triumph and swung into lightning-swift action. Rotating like a top, he thudded his huge right hand into the face of one of the squad and plucked the rifle from him. Two other rifles spat uselessly; their target wasn't there. Two rifle butts swung in unison; two Guardsmen toppled as the heavy stocks crashed into their faces. The whole play took little more than seconds. But the important move was still at hand. The unseen .50 calibers were the biggest threat to life.
Yasunara and her twelve high priests stood stony still, frozen into immobility. Chou Chang screamed his rage and fired off his .45. But Nick and Comrade, acting as a perfect team, were both flat on the damp stone and firing rapidly at the lights. Their shots merged in a volume of fast fire, and one of the huge lights winked out with a crash of falling glass. A perimeter of darkness fell over one section of the cavern.
The shot was Nick's. Hard on the dimout, Comrade's rifle found a glaring lamp on the left and dealt with it. The dimout thickened. Yasunara and her priests began to run — a mass of robed, twisting figures. One, perhaps more, of the .50 calibers spat death into the cavern. But not at the running, sliding, dodging figures of Nick Carter and his Russian comrade.
"Hold your fire!" screamed Chou Chang, his bland urbanity completely shattered. "Wait until the Daughter of the Dragon has left the cavern!"
Nick pumped three rapid shots in the direction of Chou Chang's anguished voice. Gratifyingly, he heard a startled yell. Chou dropped to his knees and fired back. A bright streak of something wet and shiny adorned the lapel of his unobtrusive suit. Nick ducked and ran.
Cousin of Pierre, you crummy little bastard, open up and do your work!
Comrade, whirling like a dervish, slowed momentarily and fired quickly into the mass of robed figures heading briskly for the unseen exit. A priest screamed and fell. Another wailed, clutched his gut, and staggered. Comrade roared with joy. Nick turned and sprinted toward the river exit, where the friendly darkness revealed a semi-circle of dim fight. Yasunara. He wanted Yasunara before she fled. He had to see her dead.
Chou Chang was still uttering strangled cries in the background when Nick spied her filmy figure and leaped. His flying tackle brought her down with a thud. But as they landed on the cold, damp stone, two of her priests halted in their tracks and closed in on him, their arms windmilling and their robed legs kicking. Nick held Yasunara fast with a foot in the small of her back and flailed out with the rifle butt. He caught one priest full across the mouth. Bone crunched; blood and spittle flew. He swung the ugly muzzle and cracked another priest over the bald skull. From the corner of his eye he saw Chou Chang slumping to the floor, the .45 dropping from his fingers. Comrade jumped blithely over the prone figure of a Guardsman and headed for the knot of priests surrounding Nick. A roving spotlight picked up his tall figure. Nick swung the rifle sights to his eye and fired once. The light went out with a discouraged shatter.
Yasunara twisted free beneath Nick's sole and sprang erect. Comrade reached for her but she darted to one side, robes fluttering. From a great distance, Nick heard a strangled order coming from Chou Chang. Great gongs sounded an alarm. Unnoticed in the uproar of sound and the commotion of fleeing priests, the knife blade gleamed suddenly in Yasunara's hand.
Comrade grabbed her.
Nick saw Comrade take the tall, regal body in a deathly bearhug. He saw Chou Chang struggle to his knees and snarl out a command. He saw the passage door opening, and he saw a confusion of figures coming through the door. He dropped the empty rifle and wrestled with the cousin of Pierre. At last, the tiny mechanism clicked. He tore off the protective cap and shouted: "Comrade! Hold it!" and he drew a deep, full breath of the cool, air and closed off his well-trained lungs.
The cousin of Pierre the Pellet flew into the heart of the great cavern.
But Comrade could not run.
Yasunara came quickly to him, ducking under his great bear-hug and following the knife-blade home with all her force. Comrade shrieked in agony. Nick sprang to help and ran headlong into a robed figure. It clutched at him with an oddly ineffectual hold, but it was enough to stall him.
Yasunara and the Russian stood locked together like a pair of ill-assorted lovers. The Daughter of the Dragon, squeezed against the big muscular body, thrust the dagger home repeatedly. Comrade sighed mightily and locked his big hands about the fragile column of throat.
"Goodbye, Devil's Daughter," he said in a strangely quiet voice.
Yasunara's smile of triumph twisted suddenly into a grimace of horror. A squeal of terror gurgled in her throat as she tried to pull herself away. But the Russian's hands tightened over her windpipe even as his life's blood coursed down his lacerated chest. He bent forward, looming over her and arching her backwards toward the stony ground. He went down with her, still clutching her in deadly embrace. Her knife was in his chest; his hands were clamped about her neck.
Nick tore himself free from the robed figure and threw himself on Comrade, trying to force open the hands clamped on Yasunara's throat. He had not seen how many times the knife had hit its target. His only thought was to drag Comrade out of here.
"Comrade! Comrade!" he yelled urgently into deaf and dying ears, knowing as he did so that deadly gas was permeating the damp, musty air of the underground cavern. But it was useless. Comrade was past all reason. The Daughter of the Dragon would die with him.
There was a sudden sharp crack and Comrade, at last, released her. She slid to the ground, limbs lax, her neck a broken hinge from which dangled the lovely head that would no longer plot with the Red Chinese or dazzle with its lying beauty. Comrade looked up at Nick and slid slowly to the ground, a tall tree yielding to the inevitable.
