Hawk’s voice answered in the familiar dry New England twang. “The lady will have to wait, Nick, whoever she is. This is urgent.”
“I figured it was,” I said, ignoring his accurate guess as to how I was occupied.
“There’s been a nuclear explosion in the Pacific. A little island called Mumura, in the Tuamotu group.”
“You mean somebody’s started testing again?” I asked.
“This was no test. The island was destroyed, along with several hundred Polynesians who lived there.”
“How long ago did it happen?”
“Two weeks.”
“I haven’t heard anything about it”
“I know. There’s a total news blackout in effect. All the big nations know about it, of course. We all have radiation detecting systems that will locate a nuclear explosion anywhere in the world. But none of the countries with atomic capabilities will admit to knowing anything about it.”
“Somebody’s lying?”
“It’s hard to say for sure, but I don’t think so. This morning our government received what amounts to a ransom demand from the people who claim to have blown up Mumura.”
“You mean they’re asking for money?”
“Much more than that. What they’re asking amounts to the unconditional surrender of all U.S. military forces and delivery of our government into their hands.”
“Could the message come from a crank?”
“Were convinced it’s genuine. They have facts about the Mumura explosion that only those responsible could know.”
“They sure ask a big price. What if we turn them down?”
“According to the message, our largest cities will go up like Mumura. New York will be first, and after that, one of our cities will be destroyed every two weeks until we capitulate to their demands or there’s nothing left.”
I gave a tow whistle. “Where do I fit in?”
“The President wants an all-out effort on this, but we can’t afford a highly visible operation. Well have the full support of the Joint Intelligence Committee, but the job itself falls to AXE. And you’re the man, Nick.”
“When do you want me in Washington?”
“How soon can you make it?”
For the first time I saw that Yolanda was standing in the doorway watching me. She was still naked. One hand rested against the door jamb and her long legs were spread slightly. Her Spanish eyes smoldered with desire.
I said into the phone, “I can leave right away if you need me, but would tomorrow morning do?”
Hawk’s sigh came through clearly over the wire. “I suppose there’s nothing we could accomplish tonight, anyway. Go on and entertain your lady, but try to save some strength. I want you here and alert first thing in the morning. There’s a time factor here, and the morning briefing will be a crucial one.”
“I’ll be there,” I said and hung up.
Yolanda’s eyes roamed down my body, lingering when they came upon the center of her interest
“Thank goodness,” she said. “For a moment I thought I had lost your attention.”
“Not a chance,” I assured her. I moved forward quickly and picked her up in my arms. She was a big girl — broad through the shoulders and tall, with full, solid hips, and she was not used to being lifted into the air by a man. I carried her into the bedroom and eased her down onto the sheets.
“Oh, Nick,” she breathed, “please don’t leave me again like that.”
“Not tonight I won’t,” I promised her. Then I leaned forward and picked up the action where we had left off.
Two
When I stepped off the 747 at Dulles International Airport I was met by a silent young man who whisked me to a waiting limousine. He maneuvered neatly through the morning traffic to pull up finally in front of an unremarkable building on Du Pont Circle.
I recognized the man who came out the door as I entered. He was the President’s top national security adviser. He was not smiling. The people in the lobby — a magazine vendor, browsing customers, a guard at the elevator — seemed average enough unless you looked closely at their eyes. Then you saw the hard, no-nonsense scrutiny that shows in the eyes of trained government agents on duty. Full security was in effect at AXE headquarters.
I presented my credentials three different times, had my face scanned by telecomputer and my palm print verified by an electronic sensor. Finally the electronic and human watchdogs were convinced that I really was Nick Carter, AXE Agent N3, rating Killmaster, and I was allowed in to see David Hawk.
He sat in his frayed leather chair, chewing on one of the long cigars he almost never lit His steel-blue eyes betrayed no emotion as he nodded me into a chair across from him.
“I can’t understand,” he said, “how you continue to look so abominably healthy, considering the life of debauchery you lead between assignments.”
I grinned at the old man, who sat ramrod straight, looking more like a man in his fifties than his seventies. “The secret is always to think pure thoughts,” I told him.
“Sure it is,” he said. One side of his mouth quirked slightly, which was the closest thing to a smile that ever appeared on his leathery New England face. Then he went dead serious. “Nick, we’ve got deep trouble.”
“So it seems. You said we received a message yesterday.”
“That’s right. The man claims he and his people are responsible for the Mumura explosion and they are prepared to destroy our cities one by one.”
“Who is the man?” I asked.
“Anton Zhizov. I believe you know the name.”
“Of course. Number-two man in the Russian Miliary High Command. I thought you said none of the big powers were involved.”
“The Soviets deny any responsibility for Zhizov. As you know, he’s been the leader of the militant hardliners in the Kremlin. He’s been increasingly unhappy with the growing detente between our countries. Apparently he’s pulled out on his own. He took Colonel Gorodin of the Red Army and some navy personnel who didn’t believe in peaceful coexistence. They also seem to have gotten away with a large supply of Russian gold.”
“And Zhizov thinks that with a few nuclear weapons they can conquer the U.S.?”
“What he’s counting on, our experts believe, is that once he’s muscled us into negotiations or blown up several of our cities, the Soviet government will switch its policy and back him up.”
“Do you think the Russians would do that?”
“I don’t even want to speculate on it,” Hawk said. “Our only concern now is that Zhizov must be stopped. The President has indicated there will be no discussion of surrender. If Zhizov is telling the truth — and we’ve got to assume that he is — his bombs are already planted in a number of American cities.”
“You said New York is the first target. Did Zhizov give us a time deadline?”
“Ten days.” Hawk’s eyes flicked at the open page of his desk calendar. “We have nine days left.”
“Then the sooner I get started the better. Do we have any leads?”
“Just one. An agent in Los Angeles working with the Atomic Energy Commission saw the secret data on the Mumura explosion and the message from Zhizov and contacted us Just a few hours ago. The agent says she has information that may be valuable and asks that we send a man out so she can deliver it in person.”
“Excuse me,” I interrupted, “did you say she?”
Hawk bit down hard on his cigar and frowned at me, but I detected a twinkle in his eyes. “I don’t know how you fall into these things, Nick, but yes, the agent is a woman. A very attractive one, if we are to believe the picture in her dossier.”
He slid an eight by ten black and white photo across the desk.
The face that looked up at me had high cheekbones, large pale eyes set wide apart, and a mouth that showed a hint of humor, all framed by rich blonde hair that flowed loosely to her shoulders. I flipped the photograph over to check the vital statistics. Rona Volstedt, Age 26, Height 5’7’’, Weight 115 pounds.