There was a second chair to his left. Carter felt the hairs ripple on the back of his neck. On the table in front of that chair were two large leather cases. They were flat and rectangular.
“Sit,” Bolivar said without looking up.
Carter sat. “Can I have a cigarette?”
Bolivar nodded. Grossman shoved one between Carter’s lips and lit it, not worrying much if the flame caught Carter’s nose as well.
The old man finished with his current pile of papers and looked up, removing his glasses.
“I managed to get through by telephone to Huzel in Amsterdam. He told me everything that he couldn’t put in a cable.”
Carter crushed out the cigarette, resisting the urge to ask how Huzel had escaped from Mortimer Potts. He also hoped that Potts was alive.
“Why did you take Huzel’s place?” Bolivar continued.
Carter leaned back calmly. “I have fair contacts. I got the word you were selling. I wanted to make a good score. I took Huzel out and impersonated him.”
Bolivar grimaced. “I wish I could believe that.”
Carter shrugged. “It’s true.”
“I have done extensive research over the years. Very few dealers are financially able to convert a buy of this size. If you were one of them, I would know about you. Who are you?”
Carter shook his head. “I can get the cash. You have the merchandise. Once we made a deal, I didn’t want to look over my shoulder while I was converting it.”
This seemed to make Bolivar pause to think. It was a full two minutes before he glanced over Carter’s shoulder and nodded. Grossman stepped forward and opened the two leather cases.
Suddenly the room seemed to explode with new light and color, all of it emanating from the interior of the cases.
Random unset jewels — diamonds, emeralds, and rubies — gleamed from their personalized niches in the layers of felt. The display was dazzling, and in the center of one case was the most dazzling of all... the bloodred, huge Heartstone.
“As you can see, I did not bring people here for nothing,” Bolivar grunted. “Now I would like to know your source of finances.”
“I can give you a number and a code,” Carter lied. “A lot of my financing is through certain gentlemens’ accounts in Switzerland, of course.”
“Of course,” Bolivar replied dryly. “How much of it is through Odessa?”
Carter looked as perplexed as possible. “What?”
“Odessa, you son of a bitch,” Bolivar hissed. “Were you supposed to lure me somewhere else to settle the deal, or were you going to try and assassinate me right here?” He was on his feet now, his eyes full of fury and his face flushed.
“Odessa is a bunch of dying old men,” Carter retorted, standing himself. “I don’t know what the hell—”
Behind Carter, Grossman tried to kidney-punch him. The Killmaster slid to the side, avoiding the punch, and whirled. He brought his knee up into Grossman’s crotch with enough force to drive the man’s sex up into his belly. Grossman doubled with pain and fell to the floor.
It was futile and Carter knew it. Both guards rushed him from the rear of the room. They covered him like an avalanche and he went down under their combined weight.
Bolivar leaned over him, his florid face only inches above Carter’s. “You’re going to die. But before you do, you’re going to let your contact know that your mission was completed. It won’t free me forever, but it will buy me time. Take him back to the stables!”
They half dragged, half carried him back across the compound and up the steps. He was thrown into the room with such force that he bounced off the opposite wall beside the window.
Verna was awake, sitting wide-eyed on the bed staring at him. Carter motioned her to him with a wagging finger. She moved like a zombie and crouched beside him. He twisted her wrist around and looked at her watch.
It was almost six o’clock.
Fourteen
The time was near. He might even be cutting it too close. He glanced at Verna. Thankfully, some of the fear in her eyes had been replaced by a resolute anger.
Out the window he could see that her plea to the guard had worked. The Amazon, Eva, was hurrying across the courtyard.
He had gone over the entire room and found it bug-free. Their biggest hope now was twofold. One, that Eva would be very sure of her position and enter the room alone. Two, that what Carter had to say would sap her caution long enough.
Verna sat on the bed. Carter stood by the window in full view of the slot in the door. The smooth shard of windowpane that he had removed from the cracked window was on the window ledge behind him, carefully wrapped in his handkerchief. The hardwood slat was between the mattress and the box springs, easily available.
They heard the thud of the guard’s boots and the click of Eva’s heels on the stairs.
Carter glanced at Verna. “Can you do it?”
“I can do it,” she replied, tight-lipped.
The footsteps stopped at the door. Carter couldn’t see the guard’s eye at the slit, but he knew it was there.
The door opened. The guard stepped in, his rifle ready. Eva moved right in behind him, a revolver held loosely in her right hand. The guard covered Carter with the rifle. Eva turned to Verna.
“Well, what is it you think you have to tell me that is so important?”
“It isn’t her,” Carter said quietly, “it’s me.”
She whirled. “You?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, speak!”
Carter shook his head. “In private.”
Eva glanced at the guard and hooded her eyes in thought. The Killmaster was gambling that she would accept the idea that he thought he might get a better deal from her than he would from Bolivar.
He reinforced it. “I had a last word from Bolivar. Evidently he doesn’t care about knowing the whole story any longer. I thought you might.”
He could see the wheels turning in her blond head. She would run to Bolivar with anything he told her, but perhaps she could convince Carter that she would intercede for his life.
She made up her mind and turned to the guard. “Outside. I’ll call you if I need you.”
Reluctantly, the guard backed from the room. The door closed but the lock didn’t click.
Eva turned to face Carter. “Well?”
“In private,” he said.
She glanced at Verna. The woman was doing a good job. She was on the bed, slumped back against the wall, her eyes vacant and staring. The big woman decided to take her chances and advanced on Carter, stopping a few feet from him.
“What is it?” she murmured.
“Bolivar was only half right,” Carter said in a voice barely above a whisper.
“Half right?” Eva replied, matching his volume.
“He accused me of coming here to kill him. It’s true, that’s what I was hired to do.”
“So, and who hired you to do this?”
“I want your word that you’ll get me out of here. I don’t care about her, you can do what you want with her.”
Carter had kept lowering his voice. To hear better, Eva had inched forward as he talked. The revolver was still pointed in his direction, but in her curiosity it was still being held with a loose hand.
“Names... tell me the names,” she hissed.
“No names. I don’t know them. A contact and the organization.”
The woman smiled. “It is Odessa.”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Verna had the slat free from between the mattress and box springs. It was held in two steady hands over her shoulder as she advanced. Carter kept his eyes steady on Eva’s.
“Take me into the jungle, a head start of two miles. Just you and your gun. Then I’ll tell you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know I just won’t kill you in the jungle after you tell me?”