Istanbul

Chapter 15 Kosk Manzara

The Kosk was not so much a villa as a sort of minor league palace. It stood, a pink and cream stucco edifice, on a wooden eminence overlooking the Black Sea and a view of fantastic beauty. It had once been the summer home of Turkish royalty, or so said Tessa Travis, the girl who had brought Nick to the place. He had taken her word for that, along with everything else. It was very dark and he had not been able to see much of the road, or anything else, because she had driven like a fiend.

Now, his wounds bathed and anointed after a lovely tepid shower, he lay on a soft round bed, in a borrowed terry-cloth robe of her husband's, and wished he could go to sleep. N3 sighed. He wasn't going to get off that easy and he knew it. Tessa Travis — her husband was at the moment in Greece on business — had been very patient with him. She had sobered up with surprising speed, and had been quick to anticipate his every need. She was not with him at the moment, but she would be back. Oh, yes! Tessa had made it very clear that she expected a certain payment for her generous hospitality.

The phones were out of order. Both of them. Nick pondered that as he watched the stark white beam of the Feneri light sweep through the ornately furnished boudoir every minute, like the sweep hand on a gigantic watch. The beam passed over his stolen garments tossed carelessly on a chair.

Nick sipped at the scotch and water he was nursing, the glass cold on his flat belly, and dismissed the matter of the phones. Turkish phone service was lousy at times. He drew luxuriously on his cigarette — American — and stamped it out in an ashtray on the bed beside him. He wished again he could, sleep — for days! Yet he knew it was impossible — he would remain here a few hours, then get into Istanbul, call Hawk, and go after Johnny Ruthless! Get it over with. Fast!

The door of the boudoir opened and Tessa Travis came in. She was still fully dressed, which surprised Nick a bit. He had expected she would slip into "something comfortable." Wasn't that the routine?

Tessa came to the bedside and bent to kiss him lightly. As her moist lips slid across Nick's he felt himself responding in spite of his utter weariness. Her perfume teased him, the sight of her breasts as she bent over him was aphrodisiacal He sought to kiss one of those exciting pale pears, with its cherry tips, but to his surprise — and faint annoyance — Tessa backed away. She gave him an odd smile. She put her hands on her hips and writhed her pelvis at him in revolving motions.

"Not so fast, huh, doll? Let little Tessa set the pace? Okay?"

For a moment something moved in N3's brain. Was there something familiar about this girl? No — couldn't be. He had never seen her before in his life. He wouldn't have forgotten this one — because she was a definite kook! Some kind of a lovely nut! N3 sighed inwardly. It took all kinds. And she was exciting, even in his present state of mind and body.

Tessa had retreated to the center of the room. She flicked off the single light. For a moment, in the dark, she was a phantom figure, a perfumed redheaded ghost shimmering in the murk. Then the Feneri light came around in its broad sweep and Nick saw her. She was pulling her dress over her head. From the depths of the frock she said, with a little laugh, "I'm gonna do a strip for you, doll! You like that? I'll bet you don't know something about me — I used to be a stripper! In Chicago! That was a long time ago, before I met Joe. He don't even know it!"

"Your husband must be a very understanding man," said Nick. "Or maybe tolerant is the word I want?"

He saw the white shoulders in a shrug of dismissal. "I couldn't care less what Joe is. honey! We don't get along so good. But, we get by — he has his kicks and I have mine. Right now you're my kicks, doll!"

The light swept the room again. He saw her coming slowly toward the bed. She was wearing opaque black panties, a garter belt and long black stockings. She still wore the high stilt heels.

Tessa halted a few feet from the bed. Her voice was husky now. Nick sensed a terrific excitement building in her. An excitement that more than matched his own — that was, in some way he could not define, not a normal excitement! Tessa was an odd one, all right! A real kook!

The girl did a sudden bump and grind. She revolved her torso in a shuddering convulsion. She laughed. "You know something, doll? If I'd known about Turkish belly dancing back in old Chi I could have knocked them dead! But who knew from belly dancing then? I was strictly a bump and grind and take it off girl! I was good, though. Sometimes I wish I hadn't give up my career to marry Joe!"

She's crude, thought Nick. Crude and more than a little vulgar! She's also beautiful and exciting and, at the moment, terribly desirable. He felt the urge rise in him. He held out his arms. "Forget your husband, Tessa, and come here. If I'm going to put the horns on him, and I've a feeling I am, let's get started, shall we?"

"Don't be in such a hurry," she whispered. She came to kneel on the bed beside him. When Nick tried to move into the dominant position she said no and pushed him gently back. "You let little Tessa take charge," she whispered in his ear. "You just relax, honey bun. Little Tessa will do everything." Her tongue, warm and moist, moved around the inside of his ear.

It was practically a rape. With Nick playing the unaccustomed role of rapee. Tessa began to breath hard as she laved his entire body with moist red kisses. Their tongues fought a dozen battles in the caverns of their mouths. Tessa was sobbing and panting now, but when Nick tried to remove her scant attire she fought him off. He gave up. The panties, it seemed, were to stay on! He thought again that she was a real — kook seemed inadequate now — a real nut! Maybe she was a little mad! If so it was an exciting madness!

Tessa had amazing strength for a slim girl. She kept him supine while she clamped her mouth to his and assumed the dominant position. Nick had the odd sensation that he was the girl, she the man! Tessa appeared to want it that way.

When she finally convulsed it was a minor atomic explosion. She screamed shrilly and fell away from Nick, kicking her long legs frantically and tearing at the red satin sheets. She clawed at his naked chest with her nails, inflicting new wounds on the old. Nick caught at her and held her until gradually she subsided, her sobs and moans fading at last to a shallow breathing. She said nothing, just lay quietly face down. He could see a great stain of saliva on the sheet beneath her wide open, still gasping mouth. After another minute or so the tremors stopped and she was quiet.

"Tessa?"

"Don't talk now," she said harshly. "Not now! Let me rest first!"

It was a different tone, a different woman who spoke. No trace of the lubricious Tessa. No trace of drunkenness, either.

N3 got up and went to the bathroom. It was huge, of dazzling pink tile with golden fixtures. Nick was impressed, but only for a moment. He got it almost instantly. The smell! Acetone! Nail polish remover!

For the next minute Nick Carter stood silent and unmoving, staring at his reflection in the big mirror. His face wore an expression of great self disgust. He was looking at a fool! A fool who deserved the death that was being now held in careful storage for him!

Noiselessly he opened the medicine cabinet and stood looking at the bottles of FASTACT. Nail polish remover for girls in a hurry. Made in Chicago. There were three bottles of the stuff.

Nick closed the medicine cabinet door, flushed the toilet — though he had not used it — and went back into the bedroom. Tessa was still on the bed, breathing softly, face buried in the pillow.

Nick turned on the overhead lights. This would have to be fast. He went toward the bed. The girl rolled over, squinting into the light. "No!" she complained. "No — turn off those damned lights, honey! Little Tessa wants to sleep…"

Nick smiled. A gentle, tender, friendly smile. He was close to her, staring down into the lovely face, the narrowed green eyes. He said, "I think it's time for little Tessa to wake up."

Nick grabbed the red hair and pulled hard. The wig had been stuck on well and it came off with difficulty, but it came off.

The effect was startling! Those narrow green eyes, now blazing with shock and hate — and the sleek black hair in a man's style haircut!

Nick tossed the red wig to the floor. His face was set in grim planes. "Hello," he said in a cold voice. "Hello, Johnny Ruthless!"

Her reaction was nearly too fast even for Nick Carter. Her hand came from beneath the pillow like a bolt of lightning, clutching an old fashioned straight razor, the blade laid back across her knuckles in the manner of a true pro. She leaped at Nick, sweeping the killing edge around in a great semicircle designed to slash him from ear to ear!

N3's reaction was just a half-heart beat faster. He let her have it with a short jolting right hand on the point of the chin! The razor flew from her hand and she turned, stunned and with glassy eyes, and slid off the bed to the floor. Out cold.

Nick picked up that lovely soft body, slim enough to play the man so well — when the good breasts were strapped down — and tossed it back on the bed. The red mouth was open and she was making hoarse snoring sounds. A little saliva dribbled from the corner of her mouth. Nick ripped off her garter belt and bound her hands behind her. He peeled off both stockings and tied her ankles with them. He did it roughly. He was livid now, sweating and pale and full of a terrible anger directed in equal parts at the girl and himself. He hated stupidity, especially in himself — and he had been stupid! It had been there to see all along! Marion Talbot, who had vanished so completely at the Cinema Bleu! She had gone up that rope ladder — as Johnny Ruthless! After changing clothes and washing the nail polish off her nails! As a woman she had liked to wear nail polish — as Johnny Ruthless she couldn't! But FASTACT took care of that. One minute and the nails came clean! And left the smell behind.

When he had her securely tied he made a fast search of the villa. He did it expertly and professionally and speedily. When he came back to the bedroom the girl was just opening her eyes. They hated him with a fierce burning intensity. Nick sat down on the bed beside her. He had gotten into his stolen trousers. Now he threw the terry cloth robe over her naked breasts. He lit a cigarette and stuck it in the petulant mouth. He said: "You want to tell me all about it, Johnny? Marion Talbot? Tessa? Which is the real you, anyway?"

"Why should I tell you anything, Carter?" She stared at him in sullen defiance. "You're going to kill me anyway — the same as you did Maurice and Carlos and the doctor! Not that I feel sorry for them — they deserved it, the fools! I told them to let me handle you — my way!"

Nick smiled coldly. "I do owe the late doctor something, I suppose. You were going to cut my throat at the sanitarium?"

"Yes! But that fool wouldn't let me! He was an old woman — always worrying about his precious skin. I should have cut his throat!"

Nick shrugged. "What matter? He's dead now. The point is that they're all three dead — but you're still alive! You might be able to stay that way, at least for a time. If you talk. I promise I won't kill you. I'll be disobeying my orders — but I'll take that chance. I'll turn you over to the Turks — you'll face a murder charge for killing Leslie Standish, at least! I imagine you've killed a lot of people, but one charge will hang you. They do hang over here, don't they?"

The girl nodded absently. Nick could see a glint of hope in the green eyes, could read her thinking. Time! She would be gaining a little time. Maybe the Turks would hang her — and maybe they wouldn't! It was better than what she faced now. So she was thinking and so N3 wanted her to think.

She glanced at him sharply, shifting on the bed and straining at the garter belt which bound her hands. The terry cloth robe fell away from her splendid breasts and Nick replaced it. She was still wearing the high stilt heels and it occurred to him that she had never taken them off, not even when making love. Kook! A deadly murderous kook! He had known some weirdo women, but this one was the prize.

"You promise you won't kill me?" It was a demand. She was getting her guts back, he thought. Our little razor expert isn't so scared now.

"I promise / won't kill you," Nick said. "That's all I promise. I'll turn you over to the Turks and you'll stand trial for murder. I think they'll hang you — the Turks aren't very sentimental about beautiful girls who commit murder. I hope they hang you! But if you play ball with me at least you'll have a few more weeks of life. Trials take time. Well?"

"All right." Sullenly. "I'll do it. What do you want to know?"

Nick lit another cigarette for them both. He moved her, not too roughly, and searched the bed thoroughly. No more razors concealed in the pillows. Nothing. He took the garter belt from her wrists and left her hands free. He kept the stockings bound around her ankles.

"To save time," he said, "I'll tell you what I already know. I've been through the house. Found some very interesting things, too."

The girl relaxed. She smoked and stared at him with narrow green eyes, a little smile on her red lips. The terry cloth robe fell away from her breasts. She appeared not to notice it.

"You can skip the sex gambit," Nick told her harshly. "I've had that bit."

The girl stuck out her red tongue at him. "You loved it, too," she purred. "So did I. It's a lot more kicks that way — when you know you're going to kill the man after!"

Nick could remember reading of a scorpion, female, which had the habit of making love and then stinging the male to death. Here was a sick and twisted mind in a beautiful body. He sighed and got up. He took the straight razor from his pocket and opened it and bent the blade back across his knuckles. He grabbed her hard, brutally, and shoved her head back on the pillow. He stroked the razor softly across the white throat and stared down into her eyes. There was fear in the green depths now.

"I've been known to break promises," Nick said very softly. "Now cut out the monkey business! Cut out the sex bit! Talk — nothing but talk! You get it?"

She got it. Nick put the razor away and said, "I found your getup, you know. The dinner jacket, the false moustache, the black contact lenses. Everything. I found the radio setup on the third floor — the receiver and transmitter. You're the real Red agent, aren't you? You're the one who set up the deal for the Chinese to take over the smuggling apparatus?"

She nodded. "Yes. I've been a Red agent for years. Even back in Chicago. First I was Soviet, then when they got soft I switched. The Chinese have the right idea — so had Stalin!"

'Too bad you won't be around to see Stalin's comeback," said Nick. "But let's get on. You're really Marion Talbot, aren't you? From St. Louis?"

She nodded. "Yes. My parents and my brother are ashamed of me — I ran away to Chicago and went into show business! I really was a stripper, you know. I was a B girl, too, and, oh, a lot of things!"

"Is that where you met the Basque and married him — in Chicago?"

There was a definite fear in her eyes now. "You're a devil," she hissed. A devil! They — everyone — said you were! Yes, I met Carlos in Chicago. He was fighting there and I was silly enough to think I was in love with him. I was only a dumb kid! We didn't live together very long — he left me and I didn't hear from him for a long time. Then he wrote and asked me to come to Istanbul."

Nick said: "By that time you had been recruited? You were working for the Reds?"

"Yes. There was a bunch of pinks around the University — the University of Chicago. I got in with them, but they were all talk and no action!"

Nick said he understood. "You wanted action? So you came here and got in on the dope smuggling deal and finally took it over for the Reds?"

She nodded. "About that. None of the others wanted to sell out. Not at first. I made them."

"I'll bet you did. You were really Defarge's secretary, part of the time?"

"Yes, I was three people. Marion Talbot, Tessa Travis and — and Johnny Ruthless. It was pretty easy."

Nick agreed that it must have been easy. "Three people. Two wigs and your own hair, eh? Blonde wig — Marion Talbot. Red wig — Tessa Travis. Your own hair, and the contacts and the dinner jacket and your breasts strapped down and you were Johnny Ruthless! How did you work it — all those killings? Get close to them as a woman — then kill them as a man?"

Something cunning moved in the green eyes. She licked at her lips with a pointed red tongue. "Mostly. That was easy, too. Most men are suckers for a woman."

Nick hesitated for a moment. The next words came hard, but finally he got them out. "I suppose Charles Morgan, Mousy, was easy, too?"

The girl laughed in contempt. "Like rolling off a log. He used to go down on his knees and beg for it. I used to give it to him, too, sometimes. Just enough to keep him stringing along. He was hooked, you know. I guess you do — you seem to know everything else, damn you! But he was — one of your very own AXE slobs! Using dope! That made it even easier for me — for us."

"I know," said Nick. Hate was burning cold in him. "They did a PM on Mousy and found the needle tracks. You killed him that night, didn't you?"

"Yes. I had to! He was going to pieces. We couldn't trust him anymore. He was a poor little milksop, anyway, all full of conscience! He needed a fix so bad that night at the Cinema Bleu that he was shaking!"

"Yes," said Nick. "I know. I thought it was just nerves. That he was cracking up from the strain. He called you, didn't he? While you were in Leslie Standish's office? He called you and warned you about me, and told you where the car was. You killed Standish — she'd been a double — but you didn't trust her any longer. You killed her, changed clothes and became Johnny Ruthless! You went to where the Opel was parked, where poor Mousy was waiting for his fix. You killed him and then came back to get me at the Cinema. That went wrong, so you set up the ambush at the car. That went wrong, too."

The red mouth worked. A filthy stream of obscenities poured from those lips Nick had so recently kissed. "Everything went wrong," she spat. "Everything went wrong as soon as you showed up, you — you AXE bastard!"

Nick nodded. "You had bad luck," he said calmly. "You nearly got me that morning in the Horn, with the cruiser. I suppose Mousy told you an AXE man was coming in?"

The girl scowled. "Yes. But he didn't know who it was. He was to go overboard just as the cruiser made the hit! We were really after the Todhunter fellow — he was getting too close to us, getting mean."

"You cut his brother's throat, right?"

She nodded sulkily. "I'm tired of talking. If you're going to take me in — do it! And I want a lawyer!"

Nick laughed harshly. "You think the Chinese will help you now?"

She turned sly. "I'll be all right. I've got friends."

Nick stood up. "We'll see. It'll be out of my hands — oh, one or two more. Just who knew you were Johnny Ruthless? Did Mousy?"

"That little fool! He knew me only as Marion Talbot He — he even asked me to marry him once. I nearly died trying not to laugh. I had to come out here to the villa and lay low for a week — I couldn't trust myself not to laugh in his face."

"I'll bet. Did Defarge or Dr. Six know you as Johnny Ruthless? Did your husband? The Basque?"

"Only Defarge." Sullen again now. "He was the only one who knew I was Johnny. I used to have to use his place to change. The bathroom, you know. Defarge was the only one I could trust with that knowledge. He was an old man, and dying. Anyway he was afraid of me, too!"

"I don't blame him," said Nick. "I'm a little afraid of you myself!"

He untied the stockings binding her ankles. "All right! Let's go into Istanbul. No tricks or I'll kill you. And I never meant anything more in my life."

The girl massaged her legs and reached for her feet. "I've got to take off these stilt heels. They're killing me." She reached, her breasts falling away from her slim rib cage in firm perfection. "How could little me play tricks on a big AXE man like you," she said. She took off one of her shoes and twisted at the heel.

She was cat fast. The heel turned and came away from the shoe and she lunged at Nick with the little stiletto concealed in the leather. She jammed it at his heart, rapier fashion, her red mouth twisted in a grimace of hate and fury. He felt the instant scalding pain as the little blade ripped along a rib.

He grabbed at her, trying to pinion the hand holding the stiletto. She fought like a demon, cursing him, her spittle wetting his face. She twisted away, falling under him the blade still in her hand. His whole two hundred pounds fell on her. He felt her convulse — no sexual convulsion tins — and arch her back and try to scream. The words and sounds died in her throat. She went limp beneath him.

Nick turned her over. The stiletto was in her left breast, dangling there, the five inch leather stilt heel decorating the reddening flesh like some grotesque medal. Nick lifted an eyelid and looked into the green eye. Glass now — forever.

He called Hawk from the Hole in Stamboul. He had driven in in the Mercedes and left it for the police to find. The two Ankara men were still in charge in the Hole, and the old Albanian, Bici, was as dirty and as silent as ever. And as drunk on raki. Nick had a couple of swigs before he called Hawk on the scrambler.

His chief, for once, heard him entirely through without interruption. When he had finished Hawk said, "I've been worried, son. This has been a rough one, eh?"

"Rough enough," said N3. "Ill expect a couple of weeks leave when I get back, sir. I've got a little forgetting to do."

"I hear you're pretty beat up," Hawk said. "I think a week in a hospital would be good for you."

"I don't," said Nick. "No hospital! I'll heal on my own time, sir. In bed, maybe, but not in a hospital!"

"Have it your way," agreed Hawk. "About Mousy, now? How far are we compromised?"

"Not too bad." N3 was grim. "They're all dead! Anyway Mousy didn't tell them about the Hole — he was getting pretty scared by that time, really scared, and he was running from them! He forgot he would need a fix so badly — and with me around he couldn't get it! I watched him go to pieces right under my eyes, but I didn't guess why. But forget Mousy — I have. Let the little guy sleep in whatever peace he's found."

A long pause. Then Hawk said, "My idea exactly. Only you and I know about Mousy now, N3. Let's keep it that way."

"Right, sir. It's over. Now when do I get out of Istanbul?"

'Today sometime. I'll have Ankara set it up. You should be in Washington tomorrow early. I'll want to see you right away, of course."

"Of course."

"As a matter of fact," said his boss, "something else has come up that is right in your line. But I'll explain when I see you. In the meantime, as you say, there is rest and — recreation! I'm sure you'll find something, and someone, who will take the bad taste of this one out of your mouth."

Nick Carter did not answer for a moment. Then a wry little smile tickled the corner of his firm mouth.

"Inshallah," said Nick Carter.