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.