"Not tough enough to stop a bullet," she jeered.
He was about to retort when the phone rang. He listened carefully and then hung up.
"You look pleased with yourself," Sim Chan said. "Was it good news, Herr Bormann?"
"Better than I expected. I have the girl's address. The police added a bit of information they thought would interest me. You know, of course, that I had had a man who was a contact for the Americans slain. He owned a curio shop. It seems that he had a daughter named Lotus, and there was a rift between them because she became a prostitute."
"So this Lotus has reasons for helping Nick Carter," Sim Chan mused. "If Agent Z couldn't kill Carter, maybe one of my bullets can."
"I must insist you don't interfere," Bormann snapped. He checked his Luger, put an extra clip in his jacket pocket, and stalked out.
Sim Chan waited a full minute before she casually walked out of his office….
Martin Bormann found Captain Maximilian Able in the bedroom closet of Lotus's apartment. The man had been missing for two days. Bormann assumed he had been dead all this time. It was stifling in the closet and yet there was no stench from the body. He was puzzled.
He heard the front door open and close, and drew his Luger. There were voices. A man's and a woman's.
He moved and he stood framed in the doorway, his Luger covering Nick Carter and Lotus.
Lotus gasped as she saw him. Nick raised his hands slowly. He was almost tempted to try for the gun in his belt, but that would have gotten him nowhere. He would have been gunned down before he could even touch metal. His hands were shoulder high.
"We meet again, Carter," Bormann said.
"Funny how we keep bumping into each other," Nick said lightly. "It's as if the gods decreed it."
"But this is the last time, Carter. Our very last meeting. When I leave here, you'll be very dead."
"That's up to the gods," Nick said. He motioned his head toward Lotus. "Why don't you let her go? She can't harm you."
"She knows too much. Besides, she helped you. You almost ruined my plans, Carter."
"Almost?"
"No doubt you know that Kerner is dead. And you took care of the laboratory. But I still have Sim Chan. She will provide me with Agent Z. And then, Carter, I will be the new fuehrer of Germany. That will be the first step. With the help of those stupid Chinese Communists I will…" Bormann abruptly stopped and his eyes widened, staring past Nick's shoulder. His finger started to tighten on the trigger.
Nick quickly craned his neck, saw Sim Chan in the front doorway, a gun in her hand. He shoved Lotus out of the path of fire and dived for the floor. Sim Chan and Bormann fired simultaneously, both shots sounding as one.
Nick and Lotus scrambled behind the sofa. Nick drew the gun from his belt and peered around the arm of the sofa.
Sim Chan was on her knees, blood oozing from her chest She still held the gun. She was trying to fire another round when Bormann sent a bullet spinning into her brain. She crumpled to the floor. There was blood coming from Bormann's shoulder. He had been hit. He turned, saw Nick aiming at him, dropped to one knee, and fired.
Nick pulled his head back. The bullet almost grazed his cheek.
Lotus moved to the other side of the sofa, a gun in her hand. This was her chance to avenge her father's death. She knew that the man with the frozen face had ordered her father's assassination. She quickly jumped to her feet, exposing herself, and fired at the hated enemy.
Bormann howled in pain, shifted his Luger, and fired twice.
Behind him, Nick heard Lotus cry out in pain. He darted to his feet in time to see Bormann heading into the bedroom. Nick went after him.
Bormann was jumping out the window when Nick fired point-blank. He ran to the window, saw Bormann racing across the street He fired again and again. Why didn't the man fall? Bormann was gone, swallowed up by the night.
Bormann had been hit at least three times, and yet he had kept going. Nick cursed silently. Sheer willpower. The man was made of iron. But the bullet in the back had to finish him. Probably crawl into a hole and die, Nick thought. He couldn't live after that.
But Bormann wasn't human. Yet he was made of flesh and blood.
"He has to die," Nick screamed into the night. He went back into the front room and found Lotus behind the sofa, her eyes open and peaceful in death.
"I don't want to leave you like this," he said to the dead girl, "but I have to." He bent and kissed her forehead.
It was time to leave. He got to his feet.
The police would find two dead Chinese girls in the apartment, and a German in the bedroom closet. It would give them something to think about.
Nick looked at Lotus once more and then left.
The Tulip Affair
Dedicated to The Men of the Secret Services of the United States of America
Chapter 1
Mark Harrison shoved his suitcase into the back of the taxi and got in. "You speak English?"
The Thai driver turned his head and nodded, showing crooked teeth. "Yes, sir. Very good. Where you go?"
"Fifty-six Suriwongse Road. That's the Metropole Hotel."
"Yes, yes. I take you."
The taxi started with a jerk and then it rolled away from the curb. Harrison turned to stare out the rear window at the airport. A man was pointing to the cab he was in and talking excitedly to the driver of a blue sedan. The man got in and the sedan roared into life.
Harrison frowned and turned to face the driver. He had to be imagining things. No one knew he was in Thailand except Hawk and Tulip. Well, Harrison had been in Bangkok before and knew his way around. He said to the driver, "Turn into Dindang Road."
The driver nodded his head and did as he was told. Under Harrison's directions, the driver shot into Petburi Road next and then turned left at Chakapong. He drove past the Temple of the Emerald Buddha. Harrison looked back. The sedan was no longer in sight He told the driver to head for the Metropole and then leaned back and lit a cigarette.
Mark Harrison was thirty-four, with sand-colored hair and a craggy face. He had a good athletic body which he always kept in trim.
His hotel room was on the seventh floor. He unpacked, put away his things, and examined the Ruger nine-shot automatic. It was in excellent working order. He then used the phone to call the number Tulip had given him.
"Yes?" The voice was-male, gruff, almost metallic.
"Tulip sends his regards."
"Oh, yes. And how was your trip?"
"Fine. I had some company before"
"We can't talk over the phone. Can you come over?"
"Sure. Where are you?"
The voice over the phone gave directions. Then there was a click, and the line was dead.
Mark Harrison thoughtfully replaced the receiver in its cradle. He didn't like this. He didn't like this one bit.
The Ruger automatic went into the holster under his left armpit. He went down, found a waiting taxi at the corner, and had the driver take him to a small house on Pahurat Road.
He paid the driver, walked to the front door, and found a black bar set in the jamb. He thumbed it Presently the door opened, and a burly man in a Chinese-red kimono admitted him.
The front room was spacious, with thick carpets, blond wood furniture and Chinese silk prints on the walls.
"Sit down," the burly man said. "Make yourself at home. Want a drink?"