"And I suppose if I play my cards right," Rachel said, "I can have some kind of budget for clothing so that I can look just the way you want me to when you come for a visit."
"The idea crossed my mind. You are attractive, and I am a man."
Carter heard a long sound of disrespect — a Bronx cheer. He suppressed a laugh, stood, replaced his listening device in his wallet, and gathered his weapons. It was time to get out of there.
"You there!" a voice at his rear said. "You don't belong here. Who are you? What are you doing?"
"Bezeidenhout's personal security," Carter said quickly. He turned to look at a large, thick-lipped, bearded man in olive drabs, field boots, and a bright red beret.
"You are one clever son of a bitch to come up with such an answer," the man said, "but it won't wash." He leveled his automatic at Carter. "I am Anders Koven, Bezeidenhout's personal security, and I know nothing at all about you. I think you'd better come along with me." He motioned at Carter with his gun. "You're probably Carter. Wouldn't come in for a little chat, would you? Had to have it entirely your own way, didn't you? Damn! You're the one who blew up the motor pool."
Carter had his weapons and the potential for surprise. Things wouldn't be any better and they could get a lot worse. He started toward Anders Koven, who motioned that Carter toss his weapon down.
Carter tossed his automatic at Koven's knee, caught him a stinging, surprising blow, then launched himself at Koven. He kicked the tender knee and brought a yowl out of the man. From inside the shed, Bezeidenhout heard his security man. "Is that you, Anders? Is everything under control out there?"
The big security man took a swing at Carter with his gun, clearly wanting to mash him at the kneecap or ankle. Carter did a snap roll to escape a swing from Koven's gun, then leaped at Koven's chest, catching him forcefully with both feet and driving the big man to the ground.
"Answer me, Anders!" Bezeidenhout called.
Anders Koven was about to, but Carter brought out Hugo.
Koven's response was a guttural roar of anger.
Carter danced into throwing position and did an underhand toss that caught Koven right where he'd wanted Hugo to go. The throat. The big man tugged at Hugo, got him free with a yank, and saw to his horror that he'd made things as bad for himself as they could get. Blood spurted freely from Koven's throat. The big man could do nothing now but lay there and gurgle.
Piet Bezeidenhout appeared in the doorway, a Luger in his hand. His eyes went from Anders Koven to Carter, catching the situation immediately. "So? Nick Carter, I'd say."
Carter nodded.
"You wouldn't come in. You wouldn't even talk or listen to a proposal. I am a hard man, but in my way I am fair." He spread his hands for a moment as if to demonstrate his fair qualities. "Why would you not even listen? Don't you understand? This is the first organization of its sort. It goes beyond nation and race."
"Does it?" Carter said. "Talk doesn't do much good with people like you. Duvalier in Haiti was so sure of his cause that even when they were overthrowing him, he was trying to explain to them. When a group of peasants staged a protest in Chile, Pinochet was so angered by their point of view that he wanted to have them punished for daring to disagree with the truth — his truth."
He could see the prominent vein on Bezeidenhout's forehead begin to throb. "It could have been such a sweet deal for the right people, Carter. It can still develop and have as much power as any organization the world has ever known."
"With you as its head?" Carter asked, shaking his head.
"It was my idea, my plan. Show me someone who is smarter, better prepared for this. I will personally go to that person and make him or her an offer that is the very essence of fairness." His eyes glowed like smoldering coals. "Show me a group like this that has begun with so much money. Most groups have to wait until they are highly successful before they attract financing. I brought large sums from the very beginning."
Carter nodded, a grim frown on his face. "Half that money was ripped off from other sources. It wasn't donated or even lent in good faith. I have very little sympathy for the diamond security forces because I've seen what they've done. But you even stole from them, your own people."
"You don't understand the Afrikaner personality, Carter. They are either very stolid and conservative, or imaginative beyond dreams. Forgetting the problem with the blacks, if you were to take all the money in the country and divide it up equally among the Afrikaners, within a year half of them would be very rich, the other half very poor."
Bezeidenhout watched Anders Koven give a last, convulsive twitch before he died. "Damn you, Carter," he said. "The time is right for Lex Talionis. It's what people want. You see it all over the world. If someone like you came in, if the right people joined, it would be unstoppable."
He thumbed the catch on his Luger, lifted the weapon, and pointed it at Carter. There was no way Carter could get Wilhelmina out or get his hands on his automatic weapon. The only solution was to put as much distance between Bezeidenhout and his Luger as possible. Carter dived for the side of the building and the shadows. Scrambling with his hands and feet, he got more forward motion. The night was split by the roar of Bezeidenhout's Luger tiring. The first shot was wide by about ten feet, but the second shot was less than six inches away.
As Carter scrambled to get out of Bezeidenhout's range, the Lex Talionis man squeezed off yet another shot that creased Carter's arm before he got to the darkness and safety.
Bezeidenhout was still firing, calling for help. Carter pulled out Wilhelmina and took off the safety catch. He came around the side of the building in time to meet two LT grunts, each of whom carried an automatic weapon. He shot one before they realized what was happening. The second one tried to take cover, and began cursing when the time came to get (he safety off his automatic.
"You've got a choice," Carter called to him. "Leave your weapon and a bandoleer of clips and you're out of here alive."
The LT man seemed to consider this for a moment. "Hey, man, how do I know you ain't jivin' me?"
"I don't want your pistol. Take it and get out of here. You've got five seconds."
The LT man swore, tossed his gun, fumbled in his holster, brought out his .45, and took off into the night. Carter swooped down on the abandoned weapon and checked the safety. Nothing. Carter ejected the clip and saw what the problem was. The first shell in the clip was defective. He pulled it out, snapped the firing pin once, moved the safety, and refitted the clip. He pulled the trigger and had the satisfaction of firing a successful burst.
By the time he got back to the site where he'd left Anders Koven, there was a commotion by a row of vehicles. Unkefer, the man Carter had seen in Belize City, was trying to start Jeeps. One after another failed and Unkefer finally put his hand on his hip and told Bezeidenhout, "Shit, chief, every one of these fuckers has been fixed!"
Bezeidenhout stormed to one of the wide-tread troop transports, got in, and began cranking the ignition. The lumbering vehicle started up and Bezeidenhout began shouting some instructions.
A moment later two men brought out Rachel Porat, her hands tied behind her. She was stuffed into the troop transport. Bezeidenhout, now wearing a .45 at each side, mounted the carrier and sped off in an easterly direction.
Carter watched Unkefer for a moment. A group of uniformed men stood around him. "You heard where he was going," he said to some of them. "You want to complain about getting paid and having interesting assignments, that's the place to go."