Then he went for the moaning Bismarck. Carter knew he had to make it fast now. His back, his ribs, and his head ached like the end was close. He knew he couldn't take much more.
He put two into Bismarck's gut with all the strength left in his arms, and grabbed hold of the man's left wrist. Carter wound his arm up behind the man's back and turned him.
Then he got a firm grip on the back of his neck and, with his other hand in his belt, ran him across the sidewalk.
The giant's head slammed into the brick wall with a dull thud, and Carter let him slip to the cement.
The barman was up, groggy and clutching his throat, but coming on. Carter stepped forward and kicked his legs from beneath him. He went down with him, slightly faster, so his knee was waiting for the big man's gut.
By the time he was sprawled on the sidewalk on his back, there wasn't much fight left in him.
"What's your name?"
Silence, hate in his eyes, blood dribbling from the side of his mouth.
Carter curled his fingers in the side of his hair and bounced the back of his head on the sidewalk a couple of times.
"Speak to me."
"Dirk…"he gagged.
"Okay, Dirk, after you clean this mess up, you go back in and tell little Erich that this is just the beginning. Hear me?"
Blink. Gag.
The Killmaster dribbled his head a few more times on the concrete. When the gags sounded like "Yes," he stopped.
"Tell him I'm at the Victoria. If I don't get word by early morning that I see Hans-Otto, it's war."
Carter staggered down the street and out on the Ku'Damm. It was a half block to a taxi stand, and he almost didn't make it.
The driver calmly surveyed him. "Hospital?"
"The Victoria."
"You're sure, mein Herr?"
"I'm sure. But if you know about a rear entrance, that would help."
The lights in his room were on, and Lisa Berrington was sitting on the side of the bed.
"Good God, what happened to you?"
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"First things first."
"I tried to prove how macho I am on the wrong side of town. Now you. How did you get in here?"
"The maid. She thinks we're having an affair."
"And out of the hospital?"
"I woke up and was rational. A policeman named Bruchner from the SSD came and took my statement. When it was over, I demanded he spring me."
"Are you all right?"
"Better than you. Here, let me help you with that."
She helped him with his jacket, set him on the bed, and poured two stiff drinks. As he sipped his, she started peeling away his clothes.
"Mind?"
"No. Silly question. How do you feel?"
"You asked me that already."
"I'm asking again."
"A little queasy when I think on it too much. Mostly angry. Want to bring me up to date?"
He did, as she finished getting him almost naked and then started doing marvelous things to his sore muscles with her hands.
"That should prove it, shouldn't it? That Stephan hired someone to kill my sister?"
"Circumstantial," Carter growled. "We need more. A motive. A who. The killer, so far, has got away clean."
"God, your whole body is turning black and blue."
"Whatever you're doing, it's helping."
She had moved away from the bed. Now she was back, her hands at it again. He lay with his eyes closed. The next moment he winced and nearly cried out as probing fingers found the ache in the bruised muscles of his back.
"Ow, enough!" he cried.
"Don't," she said when he tried to push her away. "Just relax. I don't think there is anything broken."
"Not yet!"
"Shhh."
Carter sighed and did manage to relax. She was good. Her massaging fingers seemed able to reach deep to the core of his aches and soreness. There was an exquisite agony, but in its wake a soothing calmness spread through him.
After that single, feeble protest, Carter felt himself grow limp, and he submitted without resistance to the treatment. He could hear her voice drone in a steady monotone, but he scarcely knew what she was saying.
He felt her hands peeling off his last piece of clothing, his shorts. Then she was working on the ache where pummeling fists had punished his kidneys. In long, soothing strokes, her strong fingers ran up the column of his back, across his tortured shoulders, down the slope of his rib cage. He could feel the agony slipping away, to be replaced by a delicious sense of well-being and then, unbelievably, a miraculous resurgence of strength.
"Thanks," he gasped finally. "You're one hell of a nurse!"
"Oh, I almost forgot. When the SSD officer, Bruchner, left me off…"
"Yeah?"
"A woman — a big, blond woman — from his office was waiting in the lobby for you. She left these."
Carter took the two manila envelopes from Lisa's hands and ripped them open. He quickly went through the Voigt file.
"Hand me a pad out of that briefcase, will you?"
She did. "Important?"
"Very." He told her in no uncertain terms just who Hans-Otto Voigt was, and how much clout the old man had. "I think he can come up with answers better and much faster than I or the police can. I just have to get to him."
"Is that so difficult?"
"Very, but I think I've got a way." Carter managed to roll his feet over the side of the bed and then stood with a groan.
Only then did he realize that he was totally naked. "Urn, this is a bit awkward…"
"Not really." She smiled. Her fingers went to work on her dress.
"I could put on a robe."
"I'd rather you didn't," she said, her smile broadening as she shrugged out of the dress. She stood in a half-slip and bra, boldly appraising him. The breasts that swelled her bra to bursting hung heavy and taut behind black lace. "Better?"
"Almost."
She was working the half-slip downward as he made his way to the phone.
He got the AXE hot-line operator on the line, and gave her Marty Jacobs's name and a code-red designation. She went to scrambler and came back on in seconds. "Mr. Jacobs isn't here, sir."
"I figured he wasn't. Put me through to his home."
"Yes, sir."
A very sleepy voice mumbled something like, "Yeah, who is it?"
"Marty, this is Carter."
"Christ, Nick, it's three o'clock in the morning!"
"The fight for freedom never sleeps. Got a pencil?"
"Gimme a minute." He was back in ten seconds. "Shoot."
"I want to put the squeeze on Hans-Otto Voigt and his little boy Erich."
"What kind of a squeeze?"
Carter told him, and then read his own notes scribbled from the file. "How many men do you have?"
"Six in-house, and I can get about fifteen more."
"That should be enough."
"Nick, are you nuts? You want to start World War Three in West Berlin, let alone what the police will do to us if something goes wrong!"
"I'll take care of the cops. You just put three teams together. Start with his morning couriers taking the operating capital to the illegal casinos. Also, hit four or five of his bookmakers and the safe in the Bavarian."
"You're out of your goddamned mind!"
"I know, but I'll lay you twenty-to-one it'll work. I'll let you know first thing in the morning when to move."
"I'll get right on it."
"You're a good man, Jacobs. Ciao."
Carter dropped the pad and files on the telephone stand, stood, and turned to face Lisa. She had stretched out on the bed, naked.
"Aren't you taking an awful chance?" she asked.
"Yeah, but you fight fire with fire."
"Come, kiss me."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure. I don't want to sleep alone. If I'm with you, I won't dream. I'll have something to hang on to."
Carter made it to the bed, where she moved over and made room for him. She turned and lay sideways on the bed, facing him, her weight on an elbow stretched across his body, her head propped in her hand. He felt her solid, warm breasts settle on his chest. Doubling the pillow under his head so he could get a better look at her, he ran a hand through her hair. It was wet from her exertions over him.