The Defector

CHAPTER SIX

Professor John Loo studied the sharp blade close to his throat, then looked up at Nick.

“If you put that thing away, I’ll get out of bed,” he said softly.

Nick pulled Hugo away but kept it in his hand. “You are Professor Loo?” he asked.

“John. Nobody calls me professor except our funny friends downstairs.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for a bathrobe. “How about some coffee?”

Nick frowned. He was becoming a little confused at this man’s attitude. He stood back as the man passed in front of him and crossed the room to a sink and coffee pot.

Professor John Loo was a short, well-built man with black hair parted on the side. As he made coffee his hands looked almost delicate. His movements were smooth and precise. He was obviously in excellent physical condition. His eyes were dark with very little Oriental slant and seemed to bore into whatever he looked at. His face was broad, with high cheekbones and a well-shaped nose. It was an extremely intelligent face. Nick guessed his age to be in the early thirties. He seemed to be a man who knew both his strength and his weakness. Right now, as he plugged in the hot plate, his dark eyes glanced nervously toward the bedroom door.

Get on with it, Nick thought. “Professor Loo, I’d like…” He was stopped by the professor, who raised his hand and cocked his head to one side, listening. Nick heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Both men froze as the steps crossed to the bedroom door. Nick switched Hugo to his left hand. His right reached inside his coat to rest on the butt of Wilhelmina.

A key clicked into the lock in the door. The door was thrown open and the Neanderthal man bounded into the room followed by a smaller, slick-dressed man. The huge monster pointed at Nick and grunted. He started forward. The smaller man put a hand on the big arm, stopping him. Then he smiled politely at the professor.

“Who is your friend, professor?”

Nick said quickly. “Chris Wilson. I’m a friend of John’s.” Nick began to pull Wilhelmina out of his belt. He knew that if the professor blew this, he’d have to fight his way out of the room.

John Loo shot Nick a suspicious glance. Then he returned the small man’s smile. “That’s right,” he said. “I will talk to this man. Alone!”

“Of course, of course,” the small man said, bowing slightly. “As you wish.” He motioned the monster out, then just before he shut the door behind him, he said, “You will be very careful what you say, won’t you, professor?”

“Get out!” Professor Loo shouted.

The man slowly shut the door and locked it.

John Loo turned to Nick, his brow wrinkled with worry. “The bastards know they’ve got me over a barrel.

They can afford to be generous.” He studied Nick as though seeing him for the first time. “What the hell happened to you?”

Nick relaxed his grip on Wilhelmina. He switched Hugo back to his right hand. This thing got more baffling by the moment. Professor Loo certainly didn’t sound like a man who wanted to defect. He knew Nick wasn’t Chris Wilson, yet he protected him. And this friendly cordiality suggested he had almost expected Nick. But the only way to get answers was to ask questions.

“Let’s talk,” Killmaster said.

“Not yet.” The professor set up two cups. “What do you take in your coffee?”

“Nothing. Black.”

John Loo poured the coffee. “This is one of my many luxuries, a sink and a hot plate. Previews of coming attractions. This is what I can look forward to working for the Chinese.”

“Why do it, then?” Nick asked.

Professor Loo shot him an almost hostile look. “Why indeed,” he said without feeling. Then he glanced at the locked bedroom door and back at Nick. “By the way, how the hell did you get in here?”

Nick nodded toward the open window. “Climbed a tree,” he said.

The professor laughed out loud. “Beautiful. Just beautiful. You can bet tomorrow they’ll chop down that tree.” He pointed at Hugo. “Are you going to stab me with that thing, or put it away?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Well, drink your coffee while you make up your mind.” He handed Nick the cup, then crossed to the nightstand which held, besides the lamp, a small transistor radio and a pair of glasses. He turned on the radio, dialed it to an all-night British station, and turned up the volume. When he put on the glasses they made him look quite scholarly. With his index finger he motioned Nick over to the hot plate.

Nick followed him, deciding he could probably take the man if he had to without Hugo. He put the stiletto away.

At the hot plate, the professor said, “You’re a cautious one, aren’t you?”

“The room is bugged, isn’t it?” Nick said.

The professor raised his eyebrows. “And clever too. I only hope you’re as sharp as you look. You’re right, though. The microphone is in the lamp. Took me two hours to find it.”

“But why, if you’re alone here?”

He shrugged. “Maybe I talk in my sleep.”

Nick sipped his coffee and reached into his soggy coat for one of his cigarettes. They were damp but he lit one anyway. The professor refused the one offered him.

“Professor,” Nick said. “This is all a little confusing to me.”

“Please! Call me John.”

“All right, John. My information is that you want to defect. Yet, from what I’ve seen and heard in this room I get the impression you’re being forced to.”

John threw his remaining coffee into the sink, then leaned against it with his head bent. “I have to be careful,” he said. “Damped careful. I know you’re not Chris. That means you might be from our government. Am I right?”

Nick sipped his coffee. “Could be.”

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking in this room. And I decided that if an agent tried to contact me I’d tell him the real reason why I’m defecting and try to get him to help me. I can’t handle this on my own.” He stood straight and looked directly at Nick. There were tears in his eyes. “God knows, I don’t want to go.” His voice cracked.

“Then why are you?” Nick asked.

John sighed deeply. “Because they’ve got my wife and son in China.”

Nick put his coffee down. He took one last drag on the cigarette and threw it into the sink. But although his movements were slow and deliberate, his brain raced, digesting, discarding, retaining, and the questions stood out like bright neon signs. This couldn’t be. But if it were true, it could explain many things. Was John Loo actually being forced to defect? Or was he giving Nick a beautiful snow job? Incidents began taking shape in his mind. They had form and, like a giant puzzle, they began to blend together, forming a definite picture.

John Loo studied Nick’s face, his dark eyes worried, asking unspoken questions. He wrung his hands together nervously. Then he said, “If you’re not what I think you are, then I’ve just killed my family.”

“How is that?” Nick asked. He watched the man’s eyes. The eyes could always tell him more than the spoken word.

John began pacing back and forth in front of Nick. “I was informed that if I told anyone, my wife and son would be killed. If you are what I think you are, maybe I can persuade you to help me. If not, I’ve just killed them.”

Nick picked up his coffee, sipping it, his face showing only mild interest. “I’ve just talked with your wife and son,” he said suddenly.

John Loo stopped and faced Nick. “Where did you talk with them?”

“Orlando.”

The professor reached into his robe pocket and produced a photograph. “Is this who you talked to?”

Nick looked at the photo. It was a picture of the wife and son he had met in Florida. “Yes,” he said. He started to hand the photo back, then stopped. There was something about that picture.

“Look at it closely,” John said.

Nick studied the photo more closely. Of course! This was fantastic! There actually was a difference. The woman in the photo looked slightly slimmer. She wore very little, if any, eye make-up. Her nose and mouth were shaped differently, making her look prettier. And the boy’s eyes were closer together, with the same penetrating feature John’s had. He had the woman’s mouth. Yes, there was a difference, all right. The woman and boy in the photo were not the same as the two he had talked to in Orlando. The longer he studied the picture, the more differences he could pick out. The smile, for one thing, and even the shape of the ears.

“Well?” John asked anxiously.

“Just a minute.” Nick crossed to the open window. Below, in the patio, the Neanderthal monster paced about. The rain had let up. It would probably be over by morning. Nick closed the window and took off his wet coat. The professor would see Wilhelmina sticking in his belt but it didn’t matter now. Everything about this assignment had changed. Answers to his questions came to him one by one.

He had to notify Hawk first. Since the woman and boy in Orlando were phonies, they were working for the Chi Corns. Hawk would know how to deal with them. The puzzle came together in his mind, making the picture clearer. The fact that John Loo was being forced to defect explained just about everything. Like the reason why he was followed in the first place. And the hostile attitude of the fake Mrs. Loo. The Chi Corns wanted to make sure he never reached the professor. As Chris Wilson he might have been able to persuade his friend John even to sacrifice his family. Nick doubted that, but it would sound reasonable to the Reds. It wasn’t beyond them.

Incidents came to Nick that didn’t seem to have much significance when they happened. Like when Ossa was trying to buy him. He’s asked if Nick had any family. Killmaster didn’t tie anything to it at the time. But now— would they have kidnapped his family if he’d had one? Sure they would have. They’d have stopped at nothing to get Professor Loo. That compound John was working on must mean a great deal to them. Another incident came to him — yesterday, when he first met who he thought was Mrs. Loo. He had asked to have a chat with her. And she had questioned the word. Chat, outdated, overworked, hardly ever used any more, yet a word familiar to all Americans. She didn’t know what it meant. Naturally she wouldn’t, because she was Red Chinese, not American. It was slick, professional and, to use John Loo’s phrase, just beautiful.

The professor stood in front of the sink, his hands locked together in front of him. His dark eyes bore into Nick’s head, waiting, almost fearful.

Nick said, “All right, John. I am what you think I am. I can’t tell you everything right now except that I’m an agent for one intelligence branch of our government.”

The man seemed to sag. His hands dropped to his side, his chin went to his chest. He took a long, deep, shuddering breath. “Thank God,” he said. It was barely above a whisper.

Nick crossed to him, handed back the photo. “Now, you’re going to have to trust me completely. I’ll help you, but you’ve got to tell me everything.”

The professor nodded.

“Let’s start with how they kidnapped your wife and son.”

John seemed to perk up a bit. “You don’t know how relieved I am to be talking to someone about this. I’ve been carrying it inside me for so long.” He rubbed his hands together. “Some more coffee?”

“No, thank you,” Nick said.

John Loo scratched his chin thoughtfully. “It all started about six months ago. When I came home from work there was a moving van in front of my house. Two men had all my furniture in it Kathy and Mike were nowhere around. When I asked the two men what the hell they thought they were doing, one of them gave me instructions. He said my wife and son were on their way to China. If I ever wanted to see them alive again, I’d better do as they said.

“At first I thought it was a gag. They gave me an address in Orlando and told me to go there. I went along with it until I got to the house in Orlando. There she was. And the boy too. She never did tell me her real name, I just called her Kathy and the boy Mike. When the furniture was moved in and the two guys left, she put the boy to bed, then stripped right in front of me. She said she was going to be my wife for awhile and we might as well make it convincing. When I refused to go to bed with her, she told me I’d better cooperate or Kathy and Mike would die horrible deaths.”

Nick said, “You lived together as man and wife for six months?”

John shrugged. “What else could I do?”

“Didn’t she give you any instructions or tell you what would happen next?”

“Yes, the next morning. She told me that together we would make new friends. I’d use my work as an excuse to avoid old friends. When I’d completed the formula for the compound, I would take it to China, hand it over to the Reds, and then I’d see my wife and boy again. Frankly, I was scared to death, because of Kathy and Mike. I saw she was making reports to the Reds so I had to do whatever she said. And I couldn’t get over how much she resembled Kathy.”

“So now you have completed the formula,” Nick said. “Do they have it?”

“That’s just it. I didn’t complete it. I still haven’t I couldn’t concentrate on my work. And after six months j things were getting a little hairy. My friends were pressing and I was running out of excuses. She must have gotten the word from higher up because she suddenly told me I’d work on the compound in China. She told me to announce my defection. She’d stay for a week or two, then disappear. Everyone would think she had joined me.”

“And what about Chris Wilson? Wouldn’t he have known the woman was a phony?”

John smiled. “Ah, Chris. He’s a bachelor, you know. Away from the job we never got together because of NASA’s security, but mostly because Chris and I didn’t travel in the same social circles. Chris is a girl chaser. Oh, I’m sure he enjoys his work, but his main train of thought is usually on the girls.”

“I see.” Nick poured himself another cup of coffee. “This compound you’re working on must mean a great deal to the Chi Corns. Can you tell me exactly what it is without getting technical?”

“Sure. But the formula isn’t complete yet. When and if I do complete it, it will be in the form of a thin salve, something like hand cream. You’d spread it on: your skin, and if I’m right, it should make the skin immune to sunrays, heat and radiation. It’ll have a sort of cooling effect on the skin which would protect astronauts against harmful rays. Who knows? If I work on it long enough I might even be able to perfect it to a point where they wouldn’t need space suits. The Reds want it because of its protection against nuclear burns and radiation. If they had it, there’d be little to stop them from declaring nuclear war on the world.”

Nick sipped his coffee. “Does this have anything to do with the discovery you made back in 1966?”

The professor ran his hand through his hair. “No, that was completely different. By fiddling around with an electron microscope, I was lucky enough to find a way of isolating certain types of skin diseases which weren’t serious themselves, but when characterized, offered a little help in diagnosing more serious ailments like ulcers, tumors, and possibly cancer.”

Nick chuckled. “You’re too modest. From what I understand it did more than offer a little help. It was a big breakthrough.”

John shrugged. “That’s what they say. Maybe they exaggerate a little.”

Nick had little doubt that he was talking with a brilliant man. John Loo was valuable not only to NASA, but to his country as well. Killmaster knew he had to keep the Reds from getting him. He drained his coffee and asked, “Do you have any idea how the Reds found out about the compound?”

John shook his head. “None.”

“How long have you been working on it?”

“Actually, I got the idea while I was in college. I kicked it around in my head for awhile, even made a few notes. But it wasn’t until about a year ago that I really started putting the ideas to work.”

“Did you tell anyone about it?”

“Oh, in college I might have mentioned it to a few friends. But once I was with NASA, I told nobody, not even Kathy.”

Nick crossed to the window again. The small transistor radio blasted a British marching song. Outside the window, the huge man still lurked in the patio. Killmaster lit a damp, gold-tipped cigarette. His skin felt chilled by the wet clothes he was wearing. “What it boils down to,” he said, more to himself than to John, “is to break this hold the Chinese Reds have on you.”

John remained respectfully silent.

Nick said, “I’ve got to get your wife and boy out of China.” Saying it was easy, but Nick knew the execution of it would be something else again. He turned to the professor. “Do you have any idea where in China they might be?”

John shrugged. “None.”

“Did any of them say anything that might give you a clue?”

The professor thought for a moment, rubbing his chin. Then he shook his head, smiling weakly. “Afraid I’m not much help, am I?”

“It’s all right.” Nick reached for his wet coat on the bed, shrugged his broad shoulders into it. “Do you have any idea when they’ll be taking you into China?” he asked.

John’s face seemed to brighten a little. “I can help you there, I think. I overheard the two sports downstairs talking about that I think they’ve made arrangements for midnight next Tuesday.”

Nick looked at his watch. It was three-ten A.M., Wednesday. He had less than a week to locate, get to, and remove the wife and boy from China. It didn’t look good. But first things first. He had three things that had to be done. One: he had to rig a cover statement with John over the microphone to keep the two downstairs from getting trigger-happy. Two: he had to get out of this house as unharmed as possible. And three: he had to get on the scrambler and tell Hawk about the phony wife and boy in Orlando. After that, he’d have to play it by ear.

Nick motioned John over to the lamp. “Can you make this radio squeak as if it had static?” he whispered.

John had a puzzled look. “Sure. But why. Understanding came into his eyes. Without another word he fiddled with the radio. It squawked, then went off.

Nick said, “John, are you sure there’s no way I can persuade you to come back with me?”

“No, Chris. This is the way I want it.”

It sounded a bit corny to Nick, but he hoped the two downstairs bought it

“All right,” Nick said. “They won’t like it, but I’ll tell them. How do I get out of this place?”

John pushed a small button built into the nightstand.

The two men silently shook hands. Nick crossed to the window. The Neanderthal man was no longer in the patio. Foosteps sounded on the stairs.

“Before you go,” John whispered. “I’d like to know the real name of the man helping me.”

“Nick Carter. I’m an agent for AXE.”

A key clicked in the lock. The door was opened slowly by the smaller man. The monster was not with him.

“My friend is leaving,” John said.

The slick-dressed man smiled politely. “Of course professor.” He had brought into the room a smell of cheap cologne.

“Goodbye, John,” Nick said.

“Goodbye, Chris.”

When Nick was outside the room, the man shut and locked the door. He pulled out of his belt an Army .45 automatic. He pointed it at Nick’s belly.

“What is this?” Nick asked.

The slick man still had his polite smile. “Insurance that you leave quietly.”

Nick nodded and started down the stairs with the man behind him. If he tried anything, he might endanger the professor. There was still no sign of the other man.

At the front door, the slick man said, “I do not know who you really are. But we are not foolish enough to believe that you and the professor listened to British music while you were up there. Whatever you have in mind, do not try it. We know your face now. And you will be watched closely. You have already placed those persons concerned in great danger.” He opened the door. “Goodbye, Mr. Wilson, if that is your real name.”

Nick knew the man meant the wife and boy when he said “persons concerned.” Did they know he was an agent? He stepped outside into the night air. The rain had turned to mist again. The door was shut and locked behind him.

Nick breathed deeply of the crisp night air. He started walking. There’d be little chance of his getting a taxi in this district at this hour. His main enemy right now was time. In two or three hours it would be daylight. And he didn’t even know where to begin looking for the wife and boy. He had to get in touch with Hawk.

Killmaster was about to cross the street when the huge apeman stepped out of a doorway, blocking his path. The hair bristled on the back of Nick’s neck. So he would have to deal with this creature after all. Without a word, the monster stepped up to Nick and reached for his throat. Nick ducked and sidestepped the monster. The man’s size was awesome, but because of it, he moved slowly. Nick struck him on the ear with an open palm. It didn’t phase him. The ape-man grabbed Nick’s arm and tossed him like a rag doll against the building. Killmaster’s head hit the hard structure. He grew dizzy.

By the time he came out of it the monster had his throat in his huge, hairy hands. He lifted Nick off his feet. Nick felt the blood pounding in his head. He chopped at the man’s ears, but his movements seemed painfully slow. He kicked at the groin, knowing his blows were reaching their mark. But the man did not seem to even feel it. His hands squeezed tighter around Nick’s throat. Every blow Nick tried would have killed an ordinary man. But this Neanderthal didn’t even blink. He just stood with his legs apart, holding Nick off the street by his throat, all the strength in those huge hands. Nick began to see flashes of color. His strength was gone, he felt no power in his blows. The panic of impending death squeezed his heart. He was blacking out. He had to do something quick! Hugo would work too slowly. He could probably stab the man twenty times before killing him. By that time it would be too late for him.

Wilhelmina! He seemed to move in slow motion. His hand took forever getting to the Luger. Would he have the strength to pull the trigger? Wilhelmina was out of his belt. He stuck the barrel into the man’s throat and with all his dying strength pulled the trigger. The recoil almost knocked the Luger out of his hand. The man’s chin and nose were immediately blown from his head. The explosion echoed throughout the deserted streets. The man’s eyes blinked without control. His knees started weaving. Yet the strength in his hands remained. Nick pushed the barrel into the monster’s fleshy left eye and pulled the trigger again. The shot blew the man’s forehead away. His legs started to buckle. Nick’s toes touched the street. He felt the hands relaxing their grip on his throat. But life was leaving him. He could hold his breath four minutes but that had already passed. The man was not releasing him fast enough. Nick fired twice again, completely blowing off the ape-man’s head. The hands fell away from his throat. The monster staggered back, headless. His hands reached up to where his face should have been. He sank to his knees, then topped over like a freshly chopped tree.

Nick coughed, sinking to his own knees. He breathed deep, smelling the acrid stench of gunsmoke. Lights began popping on in windows all over the neighborhood. The area was coming alive. There would be police, and Nick had no time for police. He forced himself to move. Still gasping, he trotted to the end of the block, then started walking briskly out of the neighborhood. From far off, he heard the unusual ringing of a British police siren. Then he realized he still had Wilhelmina in his hand. He quickly shoved the Luger into his belt. In his career as Killmaster for AXE, he had come close to death many times. But he’d never been quite that close.

Once the Reds discovered the mess he’d just left, they would immediately connect it with Ossa’s death. If the smaller man who had been with Ossa was still alive, he would have contacted them by now. They’d put those two deaths together, along with his visit to Professor Loo, and know he was an agent. He could just about figure his cover was blown now. He had to get in touch with Hawk. The professor, as well as his family, was in great danger. Nick shook his head as he walked. This assignment was not going well at all.