Temple of Fear

Chapter 12

Johnny Chow pushed Nick to one side, then closed and locked the door. He went toward the shining Buddha. Nick vented his rage the only way he could — he tugged at the handcuffs until he felt the skin break.

Tonaka was whispering. "I am really sorry about this, Nick. It could not be helped. I forgot something important and had to go back to my apartment. Kato was there. I don't know why. Johnny Chow was with me and she saw him. We had to take her then — there was nothing else I could do."

He was savage. "So you had to take her. Do you have to torture her?"

She bit her lip and nodded toward Johnny Chow. "He does. I told you — it is how he gets his kicks. I did try, Nick, I really did I I wanted to kill her quickly and painlessly."

"You're an angel of mercy."

Chow said: "How do you like it, big Killmaster man? She don't look so good now, huh? Not as good as when you banged her this morning, I'll bet."

That, of course, would be part of the man's perversion. Intimate questions asked under torture. Nick could imagine the leer and the frenzy…

He knew the risk, yet. all the threats in the world could not have kept him from saying it. It was not in his nature not to say it. He had to say it.

He said it calmly and coldly, his voice dripping ice. "You're a miserable, nasty, perverted sonofabitch, Chow. One of the great pleasures of my life will be killing you."

Tonaka hissed softly. "No! Don't…"

If Johnny Chow heard the words he was too engrossed to pay any attention. His pleasure was obvious. He twined a hand into Kato's thick black hair and jerked her head back. Her face was bloodless, as chalky white as though she wore geisha makeup. Her pale tongue protruded from the bloody mouth. Chow began to slap her, working himself into a rage.

"She's faking, the little bitch. She's not dead yet."

Nick wished her dead with all his heart. It was all he could do. He watched the slow trickle of the blood, sluggish now, in the upcurved gutter built around the base of the Buddha;. The machine was well named — the Bloody Buddha.

It was his fault. He had sent Kato to Tonaka's apartment to wait. He had wanted her out of the geisha house, which he had judged unsafe, and he had wanted her out of the way and near a phone in case he needed her. Goddamn it to hell! He twisted at the cuffs in a fury. Pain lanced through his wrists and forearms. He had sent Kato straight into the trap. It was not his fault, in any realistic sense, yet the onus lay on his heart like a stone.

Johnny Chow stopped slapping the unconscious girl. He scowled. "Maybe she is dead already," he said doubtfully. "None of these little whores have any strength."

At that moment Kato opened her eyes. She was dying. She was down to her last drop of blood. Yet she looked across the room and saw Nick. Somehow, perhaps with the clarity that is said to come just before death, she recognized him. She tried to smile, a pitiful effort. Her whisper, the ghost of a voice, quavered across the room.

"I sorry, Nick. I… so… sorry…"

Nick Carter kept his eyes away from those of Chow. He was sane again now and he did not want the man to read what was in his eyes. The man was a monster. Tonaka was right. If he was ever going to have a chance to strike back he had to play it cool. Very cool. For now he had to take it.

Johnny Ghow thrust Kato's head away from him with a savage movement that broke the neck. The crack was plainly audible in the room. Nick saw Tonaka wince. Was she losing her nerve? Possible angle there.

Chow stared down at the dead girl. His voice was plaintive, that of a little boy who has broken a favorite toy. "She died too soon. Why? She didn't have any right to do that." He laughed, a sound like rats squealing in the night.

"There is still you, big AXEman. I bet you'd last a long time in the Buddha."

"No," said Tonaka. "Definitely no, Johnny. Come on, now. Let's get out of this place. We've got a lot to do."

For a moment he stared defiantly at her with eyes as flat and deadly as a cobra's. He brushed the long hair out of his eyes. He made a noose of the love beads and dangled it before him. He looked down at the Walther in his hand.

"I've got the gun," he said. "That makes me boss. Honcho! I can do anything I want."

Tonaka laughed. It was a good try, but Nick heard the tension uncoiling like a spring.

"Johnny, Johnny! What is it? You're acting like a fool and I know you're not. Do you want to get- us all killed? You know what will happen if we disobey orders. Come on, Johnny. Be a good boy and listen to mama-san."

She was cajoling him like a baby. Nick listened. It was his life that was on the toss.

Tonaka went close to Johnny Chow. She put her hand on his shoulder and leaned close to his ear. She whispered. The AXEman could imagine what she was saying. She was buying him out of the mood with her body. He wondered how many times she had done it.

Johnny Chow smiled. He wiped his bloody hands on the chino pants. "You will? You really promise?"

"I will. I promise." She ran a caressing hand down his front. "As soon as we get him safely put away. Okay?"

He grinned, showing the gaps in his blocky white teeth. "Okay. Let's get it done. Here — you take the gun and cover me."

Tonaka took the Walther and stepped to one side. Beneath the heavy makeup her face was impassive, as undecipherable as a Noh mask. She trained the gun on Nick.

Nick could not resist it. "You pay a pretty heavy price," he said. "Sleeping with scum like this."

Johnny Chow smashed him in the face with his fist. Nick reeled and went to one knee. Chow kicked him in the temple and for a moment darkness swirled around the AXE agent. He swayed on his knees, out of balance because of his hands cuffed behind him, and shook his head to clear it. Lights exploded in his brain like magnesium flares.

"No more!" snapped Tonaka. "You want me to keep my promise, Johnny?"

"All right! He's not hurt." Chow got a hand in Nick's collar and hauled him to his feet.

They took him back upstairs, to a small barren room near the office. It had a metal door with a heavy iron bar on the outside. There was nothing in the room but a filthy bed pad near a pipe that ran from floor to ceiling. High up on the wall, near the pipe, was a grilled window, glassless and too small for a midget to slip through.

Johnny Chow shoved Nick toward the bed pad. "First class hotel, big man. Get around on the other side and cover him, Tonaka, while I switch the cuffs."

The girl obeyed. "You'll stay here, Carter, until after the — the business tomorrow night. Then we'll take you out to sea and put you aboard a Chinese freighter. In three days you'll be in Peking. They will be most happy to see you — they are preparing a reception now."

Chow took a key from his pocket and unlocked the cuffs. Killmaster was tempted to try it then. But Tonaka was ten feet from him, against the opposite wall, and the Walther was level on his belly. No use grabbing Chow and using him for a shield. She would kill them both. So he declined suicide and watched Chow snap one of the cuffs around the vertical pipe.

'"That should hold even the great Killmaster," Chow sneered. "Unless he's got a magic kit in his pocket — and I don't think he has." He slapped Nick hard across the face. "Sit down, you bastard, and keep quiet. You got the needle ready, Tonaka?"

Nick slid down to a sitting position, his right wrist extended and linked to the pipe. Tonaka handed Johnny Chow a glistening hypodermic needle. He pushed Nick's head down with one hand and slammed the needle into the back of his neck just above the collar of the trenchcoat. He was trying to hurt and he did. The needle felt like a dagger as Chow rammed the plunger down.

Tonaka said: "Just something to put you to sleep for awhile. Keep you quiet. It won't hurt you."

Johnny Chow yanked out the needle. "I'd like to hurt him. If I had my way…"

"You haven't," the girl said sharply. "That's all we need to do now. He'll keep. Come on, Johnny."

Seeing Chow still hesitate, glaring down at Nick, she added in a wheedling tone. "Please. Johnny. You know what I promised — there won't be time unless we hurry."

Chow gave Nick a parting kick in the ribs. "Sayonara, big man. I'll think about you while I'm screwing her. That's the closest you'll ever get to it again."

The metal door closed. He heard the heavy bar drop into place. He was alone, with a drug working in his veins that was going to knock him out any second now — for how long he had no idea.

Nick staggered to his feet. He was already a little woozy, lightheaded, but that might be from the beating be had taken. He shot a glance at the tiny window high above him and dismissed it. Nothing there. Nothing anywhere. Nothing at all. The pipe, the cuffs, the filthy bed mat.

With his free left hand he fumbled through the ripped pocket of the trenchcoat into his jacket pocket. Matches and cigarettes had been left him. And the packet of money. Johnny Chow had given him a fast frisking, almost carelessly so, and he had felt the money, fingered it, then had apparently forgotten it. He had not mentioned it to Tonaka. Nick thought back — it had been cleverly done. Chow must have his own plans for that money.

What matter? Twenty-five thousand dollars wasn't doing him a bit of good now. It wouldn't buy a key to the handcuffs.

He could feel the drug hitting him now. He was swaying and his head was a balloon trying to take off on free flight. He fought it off, trying to breathe deeply, the sweat pouring into his eyes.

He was staying on his feet by sheer will. He stood as far away from the pipe as he could, his right arm extended. He leaned away, using his two hundred pounds, his thumb folded across the palm of his right hand, compressing the muscles and bones. There are tricks in every trade and he knew it was possible, sometimes, to pull your way out of a cuff. The trick was to have a little clearance, a little play, between the cuff and the Bones. Flesh did not matter. It could be torn away.

He did have a little clearance, but not enough. It wasn't going to work. He gave a sudden tremendous jerk. Pain and blood. That was all. The cuff slid down and locked at the base of his thumb. If he had something to grease it with…

His head was a balloon now. A balloon with his face painted on it. It flew off his shoulders and away skyward on a long, long string.