The Death Strain

VI

The white corridors of Walter Reed Hospital were efficiently impersonal, like those of all hospitals everywhere, with their own kind of comforting reassurance. A Navy jet had flown us to the coast where we'd transferred to another plane which brought us to Washington. Hawk had them all primed for our arrival, and a team of doctors were waiting to whisk Carlsbad up into the vastness of the hospital. A Dr. Hobson gave me instructions.

"We'll have a preliminary opinion for you in a few hours," he said. "Call me if you haven't heard from us by ten."

I took Rita and steered her outside. Night had just descended on Washington. I walked toward a taxi at the curb.

"You'll stay at my place," I said. She gave me a narrowed-eyes look.

"You haven't anywhere else to stay" I reminded her. "Your uncle's house was blown up, remember? I almost went with it."

She said nothing — and what could she say at this point? At my place I found her a pajama top to wear after she showered. It was an old one, dating back to when I still wore pajamas a long time ago, and it was almost long enough to be a dress. But when Rita curled up on the couch in it, her long, lovely legs stretched out, she was both beguiling and sensual. Ordinarily my mind would have been tuned in on the same wave length as hers, but I was still brooding and worried. I fixed us bourbon old fashioneds, and as she sipped hers she looked over the rim of the glass at me.

"It bothers you, doesn't it?" she commented.

"What does?" I asked.

"Not having all the answers."

I looked at her lovely legs, half hidden under her, white smooth skin traveling up to the beginning roundness of her buttocks and I got up and started toward her. I'd taken three steps when the phone rang, the one I keep in the drawer of the desk, the one whose ring is a command. I turned and took it out of the drawer. Hawk's voice was tired and strained, almost exhausted.

"Get over here to the office," he said. "A call is coming from Chung Li in fifteen minutes. I want you here."

"Fifteen minutes?" I exclaimed. "I don't know if I can make that."

The old boy may have been tired but he was never too tired to be sharp. "You can make it," he said. "That gives you four to get dressed, one to kiss her goodbye and tell her you'll be back, and ten to get here."

The phone went dead and I followed orders. Rita never got a chance to protest or ask questions. Traffic was the thing that delayed me the most and was a few minutes late but I was lucky. The call had also been delayed. Hawk was chewing his cigar furiously as I entered. He shoved a typed message at me. "This came, coded. Our boys decoded it and gave it to me."

I read it quickly. "Will radiophone at 10:15 your time," it read. "Discuss unfortunate occurrence with your agent N3. General Chung Li, Chinese People's Republic."

I'd just shoved it back at Hawk when the phone with the row of little red buttons rang. Hawk took the cigar out of his mouth and tossed it into the wastebasket; his gesture of distaste was not all for the cigar. His voice, when he spoke, was tight, flat, masked; he nodded to me.

"Yes, General, Carter has reported in safely with Dr. Carlsbad. You're relieved at that… Yes… thank you. In fact, he's standing here with me. Perhaps you'd like to speak with him directly. I shall indeed… we are most appreciative."

He handed me the phone, his steel-blue eyes impassive. I heard Chung Li's quiet, controlled tones and could almost see his bland, round face in front of me as I listened.

"I hasten to offer my regrets at that bandit attack upon our lorry," he said. "When your party did not arrive at Yenki later that night, we sent a force out to find out what had happened. When they came upon the lorry with our own two men killed and the remains of the bandits, they reported back to me at once. Naturally, we first assumed you had been taken captive. It was only the next day, after I'd learned about the theft of one of our aircraft at Yenki, that I realized what must have happened. May I ask why you did not go to the airport and ask the officials there to contact me?"

"I didn't think they'd believe my story " I lied.

"It would have been so much simpler," he said. I'll bet it would have been, I agreed silently. He went on, that faint air of deprecation in his smooth voice again. "No matter, you have reached your shores safely with Dr. Carlsbad. That was my main concern. Again, my apologies for not having considered the possibility of an attack. I have a large force making a meticulous search of the area. I shall inform your people as soon as they recover the virus."

"Please do," I said. "And thanks for your concern." I could toss it back as well as he could hand it out. The phone went dead and I hung up. I looked up to see Hawk carefully replacing the receiver of the monitoring phone. His eyes met mine.

"The World Leadership Conference is just two days away," he said. "I need you. I need every man I have. Ill give you another day on Carlsbad. If you can come up with any new things or theories which make sense, I'll listen. Fair enough?"

I grimaced but nodded. It was fair enough, especially at this time. But I knew he had givem me damned little time to come up with anything new.

"Dr. Hobson called," Hawk added. "There's little hope Carlsbad can be brought around. Severe brain damage. But Hobson also said they never know when one of these cases has a moment's flash of normality. Very often they do and then go under once more. Keep hoping and keep checking were his parting words." I nodded and left with a last glance at Hawk. I don't think I'd ever seen his face so tired.

When I got back to my place, Rita was asleep, but the sheet over her was more off than on. I contented myself with looking at the beauty of her sleeping body. She lay half on her stomach, one leg drawn up, her left breast a soft, pink-tipped invitation. I pulled the sheet over her and went into the living room where I poured a shot of bourbon. I sipped it, letting the warmth trickle slowly downward. Once again I tried putting the pieces together in a way that would stifle my damned uneasiness, but I couldn't still my suspicions. I was convinced of certain things. One was the attack on the lorry — I was sure that Chung Li had engineered it. His phone call tonight had only reinforced that suspicion. The wily bastard had to find out if we'd really made it back.

"Goddammit to hell!" I said through gritted teeth. Why was I so suspicious of Chung Li, just because we'd been on opposite sides in the past? I had no proof he was acting in bad faith — no proof at all. I forced myself to stop wrestling with it and undressed. When I crawled into bed beside Rita's warm, soft body, she put an arm over my chest and cuddled up to me. I lay there until I finally fell asleep, still unhappy with my own reasoned explanations, still on edge, still strangely afraid.

It was no better when I woke up. But there was Rita, and she proceeded to make me forget about everything for a little while as I woke to her lips, her mouth moving across my body. I felt myself stirring as the hungry eagerness of her desires made their own communication. Her lips, moving down my body, pausing to devour hungrily, were cool and hot at the same time, and it was as if she was trying to erase the troubled tenseness she knew was inside me. While it lasted, she did a helluva good job, and suddenly I found myself thrusting and tossing and forgetting all else but the wildly passionate creature making love to me.

I pulled her up and smothered my face in her breasts and she turned over to receive me at once, her legs a warm embrace. I moved inside her quickly, almost savagely, but she cried out for more and more and then still more. Finally there was that searing, hoarse scream, and then she lay exhausted beside me, but it was a sweet exhaustion, a tiredness that somehow also revived. We lay together, bodies touching, her arm across me in satisfied contentment. Then the phone rang — that special phone again.

"Chung Li has sent a cable I think will interest you, Nick." Hawk's voice came over the wire. "I'll read it. 'Am happy to cooperate further on the eve of the World Leadership Conference. Advise Agent N3 we are told Carlsbad's men are in New York. Woman named Lin Wang, at 777 Doyer Street, has seen the big man. "

Hawk paused. "I've checked the address out with the New York police," he said. "It's a brothel, a quiet, well-run one, catering mostly to the Chinese community and those with a taste for Chinese food, you might say."

"This Lin Wang must be one of the girls," I said. "Do you think she's working for Chung Li?"

"I doubt that or he wouldn't have given us her name," Hawk replied. "She probably told somebody who told somebody else who told one of their people. Frankly, Nick, I'm surprised by all this. I didn't really expect any further cooperation from Chung Li."

"I'm surprised, too," I answered. "And I'm going to follow through right away."

"One more thing," Hawk said. "I checked Dr. Hobson.-Carlsbad's pulse rate is weakening. And he's still in a coma."

"Thanks," I said grimly and put down the phone. If Chung Li had any fears about Carlsbad's talking, it seemed they were unfounded. I turned to Rita, who had put on bra and panties and who looked too delicious to leave. But I was leaving.

"I have to go to New York," I said. "Your uncle's big Japanese friend's there."

"He's in New York?" she said, incredulousness in her voice.

"Not a bad place to hide in," I commented.

"Be careful, Nick."

I kissed her again and cradled her breast in the palm of my hand. "Hurry back," she choked out. I changed and left in time to catch the hourly shuttle flight from D.C. to New York. In a little more than two hours I was threading my way through the narrowed, crowded streets of New York's Chinatown. People and old buildings jostled one another and there was a gray dinginess all the bright lights of restaurants and stores couldn't hide.

Number 777 Doyer Street was a tall old building with a gift shop occupying the ground floor. The other gifts to be purchased were upstairs. I walked up one flight and rang a doorbell. The door was opened and the thick, cloying odor of incense was so strong it was almost a physical blow. The woman standing before me was Eurasian, a little blowsy with too much makeup, lips too red and black hair too lacquered in a tall upsweep. She wore a black hostess gown embroidered with a red dragon. My eyes went past her to the two men in the hallway, neither of them Chinese, lounging against the wall in shirtsleeves. Their narrowed, shifting eyes tabbed them for what they were — "protection."

Her eyes asked me the unspoken question, sizing me up with years of experience. I slouched and returned her look with a truculence.

"A friend of mine told me to stop here," I said. "He said to ask for Lin Wang."

Her eyes moved just a fraction. "Lin Wang," she repeated. "She happens not to be busy at the moment. You're lucky."

I shrugged. "I guess so," I said. She closed the door behind me and beckoned. I followed her down the hallway and into a large reception room. Girls, mostly Chinese but some white and one black, lounged in overstuffed chairs. They wore either bras and bikini panties or diaphanous see-through gowns. Their eyes followed me as I walked behind their madam. The woman led me into another hallway to a back staircase.

"Next floor, first door on the right," she said. I walked up the stairs and she watched for a moment and then went away on silent, gliding feet The damned incense was all over the place, as heavy as smoke at a campfire. I passed a door on the left and heard a girls hard, forced laughter. I saw three more closed doors down the hallway as I paused in front of the first one at the right. I knocked and turned the doorknob. I didn't really want to make like a customer. Cheap whores had never been my dish. But I had to move carefully. I wanted information from this girl and I wouldn't get it by scaring her off. Whores were always scared of involvements that might interfere with business. The door was opened by a small girl, black-haired.

I was struck by her prettiness, her small nose and flat cheekbones, almond eyes deep and liquid. She wore only a light kimono, and her breasts stood out high and proud. Suddenly I smelled a rat. Whatever Lin Wang might be, and it could be a lot of things, she was no common, everyday, run-of-the-mill prostitute found in a house like this. She had the body for it but not the eyes. They were deep, with a dark, shrewd brightness to them. They had none of the jaded, hard, cynical, permanently-wounded look of the whore.

"Come in," she said, flashing a wide smile. "You're new here, aren't you?"

Her voice surprised me. It was nasal, as though she had a cold. But it was a good opening line, I had to admit, one that a regular girl of the house might say.

"Yeah, I'm new here," I said. "And anxious as hell, honey." I gave her a slow grin. I was still going to move carefully but for different reasons. I wasn't afraid of scaring a whore any longer, but if this was going to be an acting contest, I could hold my own. In fact, as my eyes roamed over Lin Wang's pert little shape, I thought it might be an enjoyable contest. I turned to the dresser and put two tens and a five on top of it. Then I started to undress, taking off my necktie first.

I slipped off my jacket, with Wilhelmina in it in one motion and folded the Luger into the jacket as I laid it on a chair. A big double bed stood behind Lin Wang and I wondered how far she'd go with her role. I got my answer as she lifted her arms and whisked off the kimono. She stood before me naked, her breasts round and high with small nipples, piquantly exciting. She turned and took a pack of matches from the end table and lighted two incense urns, one at each side of the bed. Then she lay down on the bed, her legs up and moving out. I wondered if perhaps my evaluation had been wrong. Maybe she was just another little whore, after all.

"I thought you were anxious, big feller," she said, and once again I was struck by the nasal tone of her voice. I decided she was much more attractive when she didn't talk. I lowered myself down on her and felt her legs move up and down, rubbing along my hips. I tried to kiss her but her lips were a tight, closed line and she pushed my head down to her breasts, arching her back and lifting her nipples to my mouth. I inhaled a whiff of the damned incense as I put my lips on her breasts, a sickly-sweet odor I could have done without.

I pulled deeply on her breast and suddenly she had three, four, five breasts and there was a film over my eyes. I shook my head and raised myself on my elbows but the film didn't go away. My chest was feeling tight, constricted, and I tried to breathe through my nose but it only made things worse. Another draft of the incense came up into my nostrils and I felt as though I were tumbling through space.

I reached out and felt myself sliding over the side of the bed, and I clutched at the sheets as I fell to the floor. Dimly I saw a blurred, naked form move past me and all I could do now was to try to breathe and smell the goddamned incense and suddenly I realized it and I shook my head hard, again and again. It cleared for a moment and I saw Lin Wang nearby, watching me, her naked form clearly revealed.

It was the incense, the goddamned incense. There was something in it and I tried to dive across the side of the bed to knock it to the floor. I managed to get my hand on it and send it crashing down but the other one on the opposite side of the bed continued to spew out its fumes. I could hardly breathe and I was coughing, leaning on one elbow, knowing that with every breath I was drawing in more of the fumes but unable to help myself. I rolled over on the floor and banged my head against the wood, hard as I could. It cleared again and I saw the girl nearby and I reached out for her but she just stepped away.

Why didn't the damn incense affect her? And then, from the dim recesses of my mind I remembered the strong nasality of her voice and I had my answer. Nose plugs with filters. Small but efficient nose plugs, allowing only air to enter her lungs and not enough of the incense to have an effect.

I rolled over again and then it was as though I were floating, floating away into thin air and the terrible spinning in my head increased and increased until I was spun away into unconsciousness.

I'd passed out in darkness and I woke in darkness. How much time had passed I didn't know. But this darkness had none of the spinning, soft, suffocating quality of the other. My chest hurt and my lungs were raw and I was twisted and tied up like a pig. I was inside something, cramped and tied, and as I began to focus and orient myself, I realized that my legs were drawn up behind me and tied at the ankles. My hands were tied behind my back, almost touching my ankles. I could feel the roughness of a heavy canvas sack against my skin and I knew I was inside a car as we swayed turning a corner.

My jacket and trousers were stuffed into the sack with me, I realized as I felt them against the bare skin of my legs. They were leaving no evidence behind in the house on Doyer Street. Hugo was still strapped in its sheath against my forearm. I felt the car stop and heard noises and then I was being lifted out and dropped onto the ground. It hurt like hell and it was hard not to make a noise. I was jounced and bounced along as the sack was dragged across what must have been cobblestones.

I felt myself being flung into the air. When I heard the splash and felt the shock as it hit the water, I knew what had happened. They'd tossed the sack into the river. But the heavy sack had been tied tight and the thick canvas was waterproof. I had a few precious seconds but only a few. As the bag sank, the water pressure would force open the top and pour in on me. A few drops were already finding their way through.

I dropped Hugo into the palm of my hand, gripping the hilt with my fingers. I had to work backwards but I could easily reach the ropes binding my ankles together. It was ordinary twine and I dug deeply into it, frantically slashing and gouging with the stiletto, feeling it shred quickly. But I was sinking even more quickly and the water pressure was starting to force the top open. Suddenly the drawstrings at the top gave way and the water cascaded into the sack. I took a deep breath, struck again and felt my ankles part It was all I had time for. I ripped at the sides of the sack with Hugo, kicked out with all my strength and I was free.

Hands still tied behind me, still gripping Hugo, I kicked out for the surface with my remaining breath. I burst into the air of the surface just as my lungs were about to give way. The sparkling lights of the New York skyline glittered down at me in the deep darkness of the night and the river. I kicked out again, turned on my back and floated while I worked Hugo around in my hands and cut against the ropes still binding my wrist. It was slow and hard from such an awkward angle and I had to kick out and turn to stay afloat. The current was carrying me out, and I saw they'd dumped me into the river about a block from the bay. If I didn't get these damned wrist ropes off, a ferry boat might complete their job.

I saw the lights of a big one moving my way as I stabbed again and again at the slippery, wet ropes. Finally they gave way. I brought my arms around, held onto Hugo and swam back toward the place where I'd come up. The surface of the water was oil-slicked and dirty and I swam beneath it. I came up for air once, and then dived again. It was pitch black below but I got lucky. Because of some trapped air, the canvas bag had floated to the top of the water and I caught sight of it a dozen yards away. I struck out for it, grabbed it and found my jacket and trousers were still inside. More important, Wilhelmina was in the pocket of my jacket.

I held everything in one arm and swam for shore, finally catching onto the pilings of a rotted pier. Exhausted, I clung there against the powerful current of the river.

After a pause, I clambered up onto the wooden floor. Putting on my wet, dripping clothes, I carefully walked across the pitted, rotted pier. I'd fit the pieces together later. Right now I wanted to get back to one Lin Wang.

But my luck was running lousy. Or theirs was running good. I'd just come off the rotted old pier onto the cobbled stones of the waterfront when I saw the three men standing by the car a few feet back from the water's edge. They saw me just as I did them and with that extra sense that comes from someplace or other, I knew they were the ones who'd dumped me into the Hudson river. I knew it even before I heard the one gasp, saw his eyes widen in disbelief and his body stiffen. They had gone up the street to an all-night coffee house and had just returned to the car, one still holding a piece of cruller he was munching.

"Jesus Christ! I don't believe it!" one exclaimed, his voice hoarse. The other two swirled. All three stood transfixed for a moment and then started for me. These were not Sumo Sam's boys, I saw. They were hired goons, paid to do a dirty job and ask no questions. I knew the type and it stuck out all over them. I put my hand in my jacket and closed it around Wilhelmina. The gun was soaking wet from the river. I couldn't risk trying to use it. Better something else than a misfire at the crucial moment. The something else was to run, and I took off like a jackrabbit, a wet jackrabbit.

Their footsteps clattered behind me as I raced along the waterfront. A big, darkened closed cargo pier loomed ahead and I headed for it. The big main door was shut, a heavy overhead door of steel. But the little doorway to the side was loosely latched. I yanked hard on it and it flew open and I hurled myself into the cavernous darkness of the huge pier. Crates and barrels and boxes were piled high on both sides. I ran deeper and then turned, letting my eyes grow accustomed to the near-blackness of the place. I saw the three goons come in.

"You stay here," I heard one order. "By the door. If he tries to get out you nail him."

I faded back between a high stack of burlap bales. I saw something, a long-handled object leaning against the bales. I picked it up and smiled. It was a vicious-looking baling hook. The other two were beginning a careful row-by-row search among the crates and boxes. I reached up and felt along the sides of the burlap bales. Strong strips of galvanized tin were wrapped around each one, two strips to a bale. I wedged my fingers inside the first strip and pulled myself up along the side of the bales. Using the baling hook to hold on, I shifted my grip to the next bale and pulled myself up farther. When I was about seven feet from the ground, I hung there clinging to the side of the burlap-covered bale with one hand gripped around the tin strips, the other holding the baling hook imbedded into the bale. The contents were tightly packed soft goods of some kind.

I could hear the men below, working their way to the row where I clung. One of them came carefully around a corner of the bales, gun in hand, peering down the narrow corridor between the crates and bales. I could see the other one doing the same thing on the other side of the pier. The one on my side stepped a few feet farther into the passageway, within range. I took the baling hook out of the bale and swung down with it in a fast, clean sweep. The vicious hook caught him right under the chin. I heard the sound of tearing bone and cartilage and his head erupted with a red geyser. A guttural sound escaped him for a moment and then he hung limp, not unlike a side of skinned beef on a butcher's hook. The gun fell from his hand and hit the floor with a harsh thump. I let go of the baling hook and dropped to the floor. The other one was coming on the run from the far side.

Scooping up the gun I knelt and fired twice. Both shots caught him full on as he raced into the passageway. He sprawled on the floor in front of me and I stepped over him and out into the main portion of the pier. Moving with my back to the Crates, I edged toward the door. I couldn't see the third one in the deep blackness. He had moved against the steel door and it gave him perfect protection. Of course he'd heard the shots and with no sound from his friends he knew something had gone wrong. But he had the best position. If I wanted to get out of here I had to get to that little door and he'd see me as I tried for it I had to get a line on him and I paused at the last row of huge wooden crates. A fork-lift truck stood alongside them, and suddenly I had my way out.

Dropping to my hands and knees I crawled around to the side of the fork-lift truck, reached in and switched it on. I stomped on the gas pedal and yanked the wheel and it took off, rolling out at an angle. It worked perfectly. He figured I was in it and started blazing away as it rolled across the pier. It was simple to draw a line on the blue-silver flash of his gun as he fired. I placed three shots in a short line, about an inch and-a-half apart. He cried out in a gasping sound and collapsed on the ground. I'd heard that sound before and I knew he wasn't going anywhere. I tossed the gun away. There was only one shot left in it anyway. Slipping out the little door, I took up where I'd left off, heading for the house of Lin Wang.

I hailed a taxi and the driver, like a good New York cabbie, noted my soaked clothes but said nothing. He dropped me off a block away from 777 Doyer Street, per my instructions. I stayed close to the building line and reached the outside door. I dashed up the one flight of stairs and tried the door. It was locked. I rang the bell, and once more the door was answered by the blowsy Eurasian woman. I slammed into her, knocking her out of the way, and was racing down the hall, through the girls in the reception room and up the back stairs. I heard her screaming for her two goons, but I was on the next floor already. I hit the first door on the right, knocking it half off its hinges. A blonde with big breasts and a small, bald-headed man looked up from the bed, the man with fright in his eyes, the blonde with anger.

"What the hell is this?" the blonde said.

I ran from the room.

"Is it a raid?" I heard the man say, and the blonde muttered something I didn't catch. I hit the next door. A beefy naked man was on the bed with two Chinese girls. The girls fell off him as he sat bolt upright.

"Sorry," I muttered as I dashed out. I saw the madam's two goons coming up the head of the stairs as I slammed into the third room across the hall A Chinese girl was there with an old, bearded Chinese man. They both yelled something. I didn't understand it but I didn't have to. The meaning came through. I turned and the two goons were there. I ducked a blow from one and brought a right up into his belly. He doubled over, and I slammed him into the wall with a hard left and took him out of the picture with a karate chop against the side of his neck. He slid to the floor.

The other one had jumped onto my back, his arm tightening against my throat. I dropped to my knees and flipped him over my back. He was struggling to his feet when I clipped him a right. It caught him on the point of his jaw. He sailed backwards, six inches off the floor, and hit the next door. It crashed open as he fell into the room.

All the noise had taken its toll. The Chinese inside had his pants on already and was grabbing his shirt. The girl was still in bed, wide-eyed, scared. I ran down the stairs and met the madam halfway up. I grabbed her by her lacquered, upswept hair and yanked her down to the next landing and slammed her against the wall. She screamed in pain. The whole place was full of screams and shouts and running feet.

"Where is she, goddammit?" I yelled.

"You crazy sonofabitch," she screamed at me. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

I slapped her hard, and her head bounced off the wall.

"Lin Wang," I said. "Tell me or I'll knock your rotten head off." I belted her again and she knew I meant business. She'd been around too long not to know the signs.

"I don't know anything really," she gasped. I kept hold of her hair and knocked her head against the wall just to help loosen her tongue. "They came here and paid me a lot of money to let her use that room. They said all I had to do was send whoever asked for her up there. It was good money."

"Any money is good money to you, sister. Where is she now? Where'd she go?"

"I don't know. She just left. Some men came and she went with them."

"A big man, a huge man?" I questioned.

"No, two regular-sized men. One Chinese, one white," she answered. "The same ones that came and hired the room from me."

"What else?" I demanded. "Tell me if you know anything else?"

"There's nothing else," she said and I heard the truculence quickly returning to her voice. I had to stop her from getting over her fear. I yanked her forward and threw her into a room just off the second floor landing. I grabbed her and flung her against the wall. She bounced off it and the fear was back in her eyes. "I told you everything,** she screamed.

"I don't believe you," I said. "I'm going to beat you into a pulp just to help your memory along." I grabbed her and she swallowed hard.

"Wait," she said. "They gave me a phone number. They said I should call there if Miss Wang was ever in trouble at my place." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled slip of paper. I took it and shoved her hard into the wall. She was telling the truth, I knew. There wasn't any more. The operation was such that they wouldn't have told her anything else. I went out the door and took the steps in three long leaps. As I reached the ground floor I heard her screaming after me.

"What about all the trouble you've caused here, you big bastard?" she yelled. "You ought to pay for it!"

"Complain to the Better Business Bureau." I grinned up at her.