The Stiletto turned over once in the air before the blade buried itself in the mans neck. He made a sound like a hoarse whisper, took two steps backward, then fell to the ground, blood pumping from his throat.
Pilar jumped out of the copter. Ingram gaped from the pilot’s seat at the dead man.
“What now?” Pilar asked.
“Now I’m going to sneak in and investigate this rock village. You stay here to watch Ingram. When I come back, I may be on the run, and I’ll need somebody to cover me.”
“All right, Nick,” she said, with a meek acceptance that surprised me.
I kissed her lightly, then bent over the dead guard, yanked my stiletto from his throat and wiped the blade clean. I returned it to the forearm sheath, then took off through the rocks, avoiding the path that led away from the guardhouse.
Remembering my aerial view of the site, I hustled off in the direction of the largest building. It seemed a logical assumption that it would be the headquarters of the operation. I lay on a small ridge overlooking a path that lead to a long, low structure — a barracks. As I watched, men in rough blue clothes and the caps of workmen filed from the exit. They appeared to be unarmed. A number of others carried holstered sidearms and wore the brown uniform with red trim of the Soviet army. Beyond the barracks, I spied the large square building that I had made my first target.
I left my vantage point and, circling the barracks, made a sneak approach to a point above it. Like the others, it stood only about six feet high, and I had a hunch that the interior descended below ground level. I heard voices, and knelt to listen at a narrow ventilating slit.
“You sent for me, General Zhizov?” It was a young voice — eager, military.
Zhizov answered with an oily-smooth, patronizing inflection. “I sent for you, Major Raszky, because I did not receive a communication at the scheduled time from Colonel Gorodin. So we must assume that he will be unavailable to us in the final stages of the operation. I need a second in command, and I have chosen you.”
“I am honored, General.”
Tell me, Major, are you entirely familiar with the plan?”
“Yes, sir. We have planted nuclear explosive devices in seven American cities, and the most recent device was placed at the Panama Canal. The names of the cities and the exact locations of the bombs are known only to you and to the American scientist.”
“Very good, Raszky. And do you know when the first bomb is scheduled to go off?”
“Today, sir.” An embarrassed clearing of his throat “The rumor is all over the camp, sir.”
“Yes, it’s hardly a secret; the preparations are obvious. I’ll tell you now that the first of the American cities to be destroyed will be New York. Since their government has not accepted our terms, Dr. Warnow will detonate the first bomb in exactly four hours.”
Vastly relieved, I glanced at my watch. There had been the icy fear that while I was whirling through the Venezuelan sky at dawn, New York might even then have been leveled in the hellish flames of a nuclear blast.
As I considered the odds against me, the echo of chilling snarls poured from the ventilator.
“Ah, I see my canine friends have come awake,” Zhizov purred. “Don’t be afraid, Major, as long as I am in control, they will not harm you. But a word from me and they would kill you in a matter of seconds.” Zhizov’s delighted laughter was mimed by an unconvinced Raszky. “These beasts are ruled by the two most powerful forces in the world, Major,” Zhizov continued. “Fear and hate. Remember that”
“Yes, sir,” the major responded uncertainly over the growls of the beasts.
I eased away from the ventilator and took up a prone position overlooking the paths between the buildings. Above all, I needed some clue to the whereabouts of Knox Warnow, who was the key to the whole deadly business.
Workmen strolled by singly and in pairs. The armed soldiers with their cocky bearing seemed confident to the point of indifference. Perhaps, as Ingram had implied, they had grown careless in the belief that their security in such a location was invulnerable.
It was clear that I must have freedom to move about. So I waited until the next workman passed beneath and dropped behind him. I clubbed him with the Luger, and he went limp in my arms. Quickly, I dragged him off into the rocks and silenced him permanently.
I peeled off the blue coveralls he wore and pulled them on over my clothes. The legs were a little short, but otherwise it was a good fit. I put on the hat and pulled the visor low over my forehead. From a reasonable distance, I could pass undetected. After hiding the workman’s body between two giant boulders, I headed back to the path and began to follow it. Footsteps crunched behind me. I ducked into the low doorway of what appeared to be a supply room. I knelt there with my back to the path and fiddled with the handle of the door as if I were inspecting a faulty lock.
The warm smell of food reached my nostrils as two workman paused to linger on the path behind me.
“I don’t have to guess who gets that breakfast you carry,” one of them said. “The American, yes? The scientist.”
“Of course,” said the other. “He is our guest of honor.”
“What is he having this morning while we choke our usual garbage?”
“Fresh eggs, ham, toasted bread, and ripe tomatoes.”
The first workman; groaned expressively. “I pray that it will not be icing until we can all leave this mountain purgatory and live like human beings again. How I envy the fine food and willing women enjoyed by the American.”
“That time is near, comrade. We are supposed to strike at the Americans today.”
“If so, then tonight we celebrate. But now I must go.”
As I watched covertly, one of the two men went up an adjoining path, branching left, while the other, carrying the tray of food, continued straight ahead. I let him get well down the path, then tailed him, the cap low over my face.
The man did not turn around, and so I followed him to one of the larger structures, set apart from the cluster of buildings. He went down several steps, opened a door, and vanished behind it I gave him several seconds, then entered the same door.
These buildings, I discovered, had been dug much deeper and finished far more elaborately than I had suspected. Their thoughtful design indicated a long period of preparation.
There was one long corridor with walls of smooth stone that curved in a gentle arc. Though I could not see the workman, I could hear his footsteps up ahead. The corridor was lighted by electric bulbs at regular intervals, and there was, no doubt, a generating plant.
I remembered then that several years before there had been rumors of a Russian base being readied somewhere in South America. It was about the time of the Cuban missile crisis, and in the detente that followed, such rumors died. It appeared now that the base was a fact. It was probably abandoned by the official Russian regime, but reactivated by Zhizov and his faction as a hidden center for their operations.
Along the entire corridor, I had passed only one door. Apparently they were few rooms, since they had to be carved out of solid rock. At the sound of voices up ahead, I halted abruptly.
“I have brought a kings breakfast for his highness.” It was the food bearer’s voice, heavy with sarcasm.
“Just deliver the food, and shove the idiot remarks.” The answering voice was gruff, all business”.
“What does the American do in there?” the workman asked. “Is he prepared for the big day?”
Now I inched along the curving wall to get a look at the speakers and reached a point where I could see the end of the corridor. A soldier with an imposing black moustache stood there guarding a solid door. He took the tray of food from the workman and pursed his lips before he said, “He seems no different than usual, except that he was up at dawn this morning. But I cannot know what goes on in his head.”