Williams nodded. He looked up as Redman was pulling back for a landing. "Quite a stunt you pulled off."
Carter shrugged. Jumping out of an airplane without a parachute was tame stuff compared to most of his assignments. He was ready now. More than ready.
Redman landed as their chase car started across the field. Carter went over to his jumpmaster and they shook hands.
"Nice jump, Tom."
Redman looked over at Williams. "Trouble?"
"No, but I have to go."
"See you when you get back."
It was a Sunday, so there wasn't much traffic on the Baltimore-Washington Parkway, and they made good time back into the city.
"What can you tell me, Brad?" Carter asked. He lit one of his custom-blended cigarettes with his initials in gold on the filter.
"You're being sent out to Tokyo. Frisco tonight, then nonstop out."
"What's going on over there?"
"I don't have the full story myself, Nick, but Hawk saw the President this morning. Seems the CIA might be in a bit over its head. Their number-two man, a chap named Paul Tibbet, was shot and killed along with a Soviet naval lieutenant in the Tokyo zoo."
"A defection?"
"Looks like it, but there's more. The Russian had brought over some technical data on one of their new subs. He hid it somewhere in Tokyo, and they're turning the town upside down trying to find it. Looks like a lot of people might get their fingers burned with this one."
"Any line on the triggerman?"
"KGB, that's obvious. But no, we've no line on them," Williams said. He glanced over at Carter. "Kazuka asked for you. Specifically."
Carter sat back in his seat and let his mind wander back to Tokyo seven or eight years ago. The head of AXE's station in Tokyo in those days was Owen Nashima. He had been killed on his way back to the States to talk to Carter. That assignment had nearly cost Carter his own life, but it had brought him together with Kazuka Akiyama, a beautiful woman he'd almost married.
Since then they had worked on a couple of other assignments together. Now she headed AXE's entire Far East operation.
Williams ran the show from Washington, while Kazuka ran it from the field. It was going to be good, he decided, to see her again.
AXE's headquarters was located on Dupont Circle where New Hampshire and Massachusetts avenues came together. Williams pulled into the underground garage, and he and Carter were passed through several security checks before they were allowed into Hawk's suite.
Hawk was waiting for them. He was a short, stocky man with a full head of snow-white hair, and an ever-present, foul-smelling cheap cigar clenched in his teeth. He looked up.
"How was the jump?"
Carter knew better than to ask Hawk how he came by his knowledge. The man was incredible. Little if anything ever got past him.
"Just fine, sir."
Hawk looked at him critically for a long moment. "How do you feel?"
"I'm fit, sir."
"You have that nonsense out of your system now, I presume?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. I've got work for you. Sit down."
Carter and Williams took seats across the desk from Hawk, who opened a thick file folder and passed across several satellite surveillance photographs to Carter.
"I assume Williams has already told you about Paul Tibbet and Lieutenant Lavrov."
"On the way in, sir," Carter said, looking down at the photos. They showed a section of rugged-looking coastline along which was some sort of an installation, perhaps a naval base. But it looked extremely well protected.
"Svetlaya. North of Vladivostok," Hawk said. "A big submarine staging center and research facility. Lieutenant Lavrov was a lieutenant stationed there. But he also held the KGB rank of captain."
Carter looked up. "Brad said he was defecting. And he was bringing something with him…?"
Hawk handed over a sketch of a Soviet submarine. "Petrograd-class. Their latest."
Carter studied the diagram for a moment. "No photos?"
"No, and damned little else except the rumor that the boat is stealth-capable. No way of detecting her while she's submerged. I'm told she could come right up into New York Harbor anytime she wanted, and we wouldn't know she was there."
"Nuclear weapons aboard?"
"Hydrogen bombs and the systems to launch them. One of those ships could start, conduct, and finish World War Three without us being able to fire a shot in reply. We'd never know what hit us."
"He was bringing information about the sub?"
"A microchip from the sub's computer banks, from what I gather. Operations data, maintenance details, the entire ball game. He told Tibbet he had hidden the chip somewhere in Tokyo. Wanted plastic surgery, a new identity here in the States, and a million in cash."
"But he never told Tibbet where?" Carter asked.
"They were both killed before he had the chance. Now Tokyo is practically a war zone. The Russians want their computer chip back."
"And we want to recover it."
"In the worst way, Nick. The President has given this absolutely top priority. You've got a completely free hand."
"What about the Japanese government?"
Hawk sat back in his chair and took the cigar out of his mouth. "That's the one snag for the moment, Nick. The Japanese don't know what's going on. As far as they're concerned, Tibbet was working outside his charter; he was blown away when he tried to make contact with a Soviet embassy employee. Ambassador Zimmerman has been making all the right noises to try and calm their ruffled feathers, but they're no dummies. It's obvious to them that something is going on. The CIA is sending over a team to work with them… but only to find Tibbet's murderer. Nothing has been said about the computer chip."
"I'm to find it."
"At all costs, Nick. At all costs."
Carter's flight was scheduled to leave for San Francisco at a few minutes after seven. He left AXE headquarters at about two after exhausting what information Research had on the Petrograd-class submarines, as well as on the Svetlaya base itself. There wasn't much information, but one name kept popping up as source: Lieutenant Commander Howard Peyton, who now worked in the Bureau of Naval Intelligence in Washington. According to the records, he had until recently been stationed as naval attaché at the U.S. embassy in Moscow. If anyone would have more information on the sub and her capabilities it would be Peyton.
Carter hurried to his brownstone in Georgetown where he packed his suitcase and installed his three weapons in their specially constructed radio-cassette player that allowed him to take them easily through any airport security in the world. First in was Wilhelmina, his 9mm Luger with an extra clip of ammunition and a silencer. Next came Hugo, a pencil-thin, razor-sharp stiletto that in the field he carried on his right forearm in a chamois sheath. Finally, Pierre — a tiny gas bomb that he wore attached high on his thigh — was fit in behind the pop-out circuit board. He brought two of them.
When he was packed, he drove out to the North Arlington address he had found for Lieutenant Commander Peyton. It turned out to be an impressively large Colonial.
A maid answered the door when he rang.
"My name is Nick Carter, and I'd like to speak with Commander Peyton," Carter said.
The maid let him in, told him to wait in the vestibule, and disappeared into the living room. The house was well furnished. Obviously Peyton was independently wealthy. Naval lieutenant commander's pay wasn't that good.
Peyton turned out to be a tall, patrician-looking man in his mid to late forties. He was dressed in an open-neck shirt and cardigan sweater. He was smoking a pipe.
"Mr. Carter," he said, shaking hands. "Should I know you?"
"No, sir. I've come to talk to you about submarines. Soviet submarines. But first I'd like you to verify that you should talk to me." Carter gave him the telephone number for the White House chief of staff. "They are expecting your call."