The Colonel was back. Her thin lips parted to reveal where all the yellow had gone. "Now, Carter, once more. You know the Yellow Widow is a Chinese agent, no? You said as much. You must know more about her. Her friends, her mode of working, her safe houses where she would take — where she would hide out? You must know all these things — and you are going to tell me!"
Nick shook his head. "I don't. I tell you I never heard of her. I made all that up just as I was coming out of the drug. Look, Colonel Kalinski, maybe we can make a deal, eh? At least I can, if you want to play. I have carte blanche from my government. Have you?"
Again the long slow look. The thin lips twitched against was more of a gurgle than a chuckle, but the Colonel was definitely amused. "I am glad we met, Carter. You are all that I have heard — insouciant and arrogant. You are also not without courage — either that or you are a complete fool! That I-cannot believe."
Nick assumed a slightly idiotic expression. "Gee, Colonel. Thanks a lot. We don't get many kind words in our profession and…"
She slammed her knuckles across his face again. "Enough. You still maintain that you know nothing of the Yellow Widow?"
It was hard work, but Nick managed to keep his grin. "I do. That's why you'd better consider a deal. Colonel, And fast! They're getting farther away all the time — Bennett and this Chinese lady. Why don't you put your cards on the table? I will. I'm after Bennett. I admit it. I want to kill him. You're after Bennett, too. But you don't want to kill him. Not yet. Not until you've used him, pumped him dry. Face it, Colonel. You people have goofed badly on this Bennett thing. So have we. We're going to have to fight it out between us later, I know, but right now neither of us has Bennett! This Yellow Widow has got him and she's running for China. If we put our heads together, if we exchange information, work together, we might be able to stop her."
It was a monumental bluff. He didn't think it had a prayer. He could offer to exchange information because he didn't have any. This Colonel Five-by-Five might just have a smattering — the Russians, after all, had been on the trail just ahead of him.
The blue eyes were like two marbles looking down at him. He got the impression that she was wearing contact lens and he wondered about it, but only briefly. She smacked him across the face again. "I think I am right about you, Carter. You don't know anything. You have, as you say, bungled it. So have we, this I admit, but your bungling is much worse. Were it not for your reputation I would be inclined to think that you are nothing but another American fool." Again her knuckles raked his face.
Nick felt a trickle of blood on his lips. He smiled, feeling the torn skin pull and stretch. "When you've finished getting your jollies, Colonel, I suggest that you get in touch with your people and ask them what they think. Get your boss in the Kremlin on the short wave and ask him! You might be a little surprised."
The woman turned from him and walked a few steps into the shadows. Nick saw that he had been right — her behind was enormous. Her legs would have been stout even on a piano. She was about two hundred pounds of feminine nastiness. His gut churned and he felt a moment of near panic. Sweat crawled on his skin like moist little snakes. Had he miscalculated? Was he going to be able to get himself out of this?
He could hear her giving orders to someone in the gloom. After a moment the man said, "Da," and left immediately. The Colonel came back to stare down at Nick. "I have followed your advice in part, Carter. I have sent a message to my superiors informing them of your capture, and of what you suggest. It will be an hour or more before we can expect an answer — in the meantime we shall get back to the real business. What do you know of this Yellow Widow?"
Nick groaned aloud. "You, Colonel Kalinski, have got a one-track mind."
"Yes. That is so. I find it a great asset in my work. What do you know of the old Roman law, Carter?"
That one stopped him for a moment. He blinked at her. "The old Roman law? Not much, I guess. Why? What's it got to do with finding Bennett?"
"Perhaps a great deal. A very great deal — with me finding Bennett. Doctor! The equipment, please. I think I will begin now." She reached a hand back and wriggled her ringers. Killmaster, remembering certain details of Zoe Kalinski's dossier, felt the sweat grow cold along his spine. He could take torture. Had taken it many a time. But he had never gotten to like it. And there was a limit to what any man could take.
Nick was prepared for knives, dental drills, even air hoses. He would not have been surprised at brass knucks, clubs, whips. This was an old warehouse and they would have to make do with what was at hand, yet the equipment that the dope addict produced puzzled him. It was so simple, so innocuous looking.
Two pieces of thin wood. About an eighth of an inch thick and five inches square. A small rubber mallet, very similar to a judge's gavel.
Colonel Kalinski stood back from the table. "Prepare him."
Two of the muscle boys came out of the shadows. Both were grinning. Nick tested the bonds that held his wrists to the table corners. Rock firm. Hell! What pleasure to have smashed the grins off those flat faces. But it was not going to be — this time he was just going to have to lie there and take it. But what?
He found out soon enough. He had been stripped to his shirt and trousers. His weapons were gone, of course, and the heavy Army shoes were also missing. Now, at the woman's command, the men unbelted his trousers and pulled them down. His shorts were ripped off and he was exposed to the hot glare of the light.
It was a strain, but Nick managed to preserve both his grin and his cool — as the cats back Stateside would have said — and he could even leer up at the Colonel. "Please, Colonel! I know we're enemies and all that, but isn't this going just a bit far? I'm a modest man and…"
"You talk a great deal. Carter, but you never say anything. But you will — you will." Her cold stare was unwavering. Nick was reminded of giant squid he had once confronted in i sea cave near Madagascar. The squid had looked at him the way she was looking now.
"I was speaking of the old Roman law/' she said. She began to draw on a pair of very thin rubber gloves. Surgeons' gloves. Again he noted the delicacy of her hands, then forgot it in a wild flurry of panic. He did not like thinking about surgeons. Not exposed like this.
"The old Roman law," she went on, "was just the opposite of your decadent English law. Now, in your country, confessions extracted by torture are thrown out of court. In the old Rome it was just the opposite — a confession had to be obtained by torture to be valid. You: begin to understand, Carter?"
"I understand," he blurted, "but you're wasting your time. If the drug didn't work…"
"Drugs!" It was as though she had spat. "I have little faith in drugs. Even less in the fools who administer them." She turned to glare at the doctor. "You will remain, understand. No creeping away because you have a weak stomach. You are a poor thing, but you must have some knowledge, and I must know when his pain threshold is reached."
"As you command," said the emaciated man with his first show of dignity. "But I will be sick as usual. I promise you that, Colonel." One of the other men laughed.
"Then be sick!" the woman rasped. "But attend closely. You and your drugs! I will show you the best drug of all — the best truth drug. Pain!"
In all his long career as an agent Killmaster had never experienced anything quite like this. Even as he steeled himself against the pain that was to come he found that he was curiously fascinated. Those delicate hands in the pale rubber gloves. Certainly she was clinical enough; there was nothing but the most dispassionate interest as she went about her business.