Suddenly he knew what it was, what she was doing. He had very little time. He had no time at all.
Nick Carter went into the vault like a hurricane. With the Tommy gun at hip level he gut shot the Chinese soldiers in two short staccato bursts. They sprawled, their machine guns slipping from lifeless hands. The men in white gowns stared at this monster who had appeared so suddenly, spitting flame. Nick yelled at them.
“Quick! You want to fight your way out — get their guns and go to it! I’m a friend. You got any sulfuric acid? Come on... come on—”
Three bewildered faces staring at him in an agony of fear and surprise and indecision.
“Sulfuric acid,” Nick roared. “Goddamn it! Sulfuric acid. You got any?”
The brightest of the men snapped out of it. He pointed with a trembling finger at a glass demijohn containing green liquid.
Nick leaped for the container, swung it up and ran with it to the small press. The plates were locked onto the press, those so precious printing plates which could not be genuine, yet somehow were. He put the demijohn on the press, directly over the plates, and backed off. He let go with a long raving burst from the Tommy gun. Glass shattered. Shards flew in every direction and the acid flooded the plates, bubbling and smoking, eating at the metal.
Nick put another long burst into the plates themselves, aiding the acid in its work of destruction. Then the job was done. The plates were useless, totally destroyed, and it was time to get out of there. He ran for the door, expecting to be met by a hail of gunfire. And knew that he was not yet ready to die. He went out the door in a long slide on his belly. Bullets ticked off the iron over him. A leaden insect bit him on the ankle.
The lights flashed on.
Chapter 11
The Net
Killmaster kept rolling like a barrel, hugging the side of the cavern. The huge lights blazing from the ceiling were stark, glaring, a blinding white that hurt his eyes. Later he knew that he owed his life to the suddenness of the lights; they had blinded everyone — the Chinese soldiers and The Bitch’s guards who poured into the cavern from two directions. They came out of the passage Nick had just left and they poured through great sliding steel doors at the far end of the huge cave. Even as he moved and fired and frantically sought shelter Nick knew what the woman had done — she had deliberately kept the power off until she was ready to attack. Harper must be dead. Or had joined forces with her. Either way she was out to wipe out the Chinese, to take over once and for all.
The AXEman sensed that for the moment he was of no great importance. Thank God! It gave him what little chance he was going to have. To cut and run for it. His job was over. His duty now was to get back alive, with what he knew, and let the CIA and the Mexican police take over.
No one seemed to be shooting directly at him at the moment. He was caught in a crossfire. He huddled in the lean shelter of a tall stack of paper — the Chinese must have shipped in tons of the stuff — and made a rapid survey of the battleground. No sign of Gerda von Rothe herself. Her guards were keeping a heavy and constant fire on the little band of Chinese soldiers now holed up on a far ledge of the lagoon. The light dimmed a bit as the Chinese shot out a cluster of bulbs. That figured. The Chinese were badly outnumbered and would have a better chance in the dark.
The AXEman lay with his nose pressed against dank stone and let his eyes rove. He was immobile for the moment and that wouldn’t do. Not at all. The harsh voice of his old sergeant rang in his ears — first law for survival in a fire fight: keep moving, keep moving, keep moving!
Bullets were ticking around him, whining off the wall over his head. He saw something he had missed before, a narrow opening in the cavern wall between himself and the vault with the combination lock on it. As he spotted it he saw a Chinese peer around the corner, snap off a burst with his Tommy gun, then disappear back into the passage.
A slug tugged at his bush jacket, now filthy and covered with blood. He had to move out. Any spot was better than this. He ran hard for the mouth of the passage, crouching almost double and zigzagging. As he came within five yards of the passage the Chinese soldier popped into view again. His arm came up and over as he lobbed something toward the guards around the rear tunnel. A grenade!
As the soldier was ducking back into the passage he saw Nick coming at him. His eyes widened and he tried to get his machine gun around, but not in time. Nick let go a burst that took his head half off. The grenade let go with a sullen whomp and he heard men screaming. Nick dove into the cover of the passage as a fusillade rattled off the walls just behind him. He breathed again.
The tunnel in the stone was high and narrow, wide enough for one man. At the far end was a blaze of light and even above the gunfire Nick heard the chattering of a wireless key being pounded at high speed. This was their radio room. The operator must be working the submarine, Sea Dragon, lurking somewhere off the coast. Asking for help. Nick Carter charged into the radio room. Nothing much was going to help the Chinese now.
There was only one operator, alone, pounding frantically at his key. He turned as Nick came blasting in, terror written on the pale yellow face. He was a small man. Nick shot him out of the chair. He fell across the key, which set up a continuous wail of high voltage agony.
Nick aimed his Tommy gun at the transmitter and pressed the trigger. Nothing. The damned thing had jammed. No. Empty. His clip was exhausted and he had no spare.
There was another Tommy gun hanging from a spike hammered into the wall. Nick grabbed it and was about to let go a burst when he caught himself. Fool! He had a little time. Seconds. Use it to advantage.
He sat down at the key and began to send in clear. Homer might be listening. Certainly the CIA monitors would be. It was worth the precious seconds he was spending.
His fingers tapped at the bug, sending it too fast, sending it any old way, sprawling and garbled, but getting it out: Carter — Carter — Carter — All Hell Loose El Mirador — Involves VIP Also Ivan, Cathay, Nazi — Send US and Mexican Cavalry Soonest — Most Urgent — Carter — Carter — Carter—
Nick draped the body of the Chinese operator over the key again, depressing it so it would continue to send out the squealing note. The DF boys should be able to get a hard fix on that! He slipped into the narrow tunnel again, pausing to scoop half a dozen grenades out of a wooden box. He stowed the grenades in various pockets as he made his way up the passage again. The cavern still sounded like the Battle of the Bulge. The Chinese were putting up a hell of a fight.
On his belly he peered around the corner of the tunnel. The scene was in semi-darkness now. Most of the ceiling lights had been shot out. The Chinese were still on their ledge on the far side of the lagoon and the guards were keeping them pinned down. The Bitch’s men seemed in no great hurry to rush the Chinese and in a moment Nick saw why. They were going to use rifle grenades. Nick watched as one of the guards near the rear tunnel jammed a stick grenade in his rifle barrel and aimed at the ledge over the lagoon. The man pulled the trigger. A soft Phoooom.
The rifle grenade fell short, bursting in the water but close enough to send a wave of spray over the trapped Chinese soldiers. The next grenade would be closer. After that the soldiers had had it. They must either surrender or die. Somehow Nick doubted that The Bitch intended taking prisoners. She was out for a clean sweep.