Fred, Goddamit...
Fred, why did you have to get in on this one? Why didn’t you just send some tyro to do it, the way Basil Morse would? Why did you always have to tackle the tough ones yourself, you crazy bastard? Why couldn’t you be cautious, like your boss? Why couldn’t you be yellow...
After a while I went to work. The filing cabinet, however, had been rifled — and the things that were missing were precisely the things Will had asked me to look for. I did a bit of useless cursing about that, and then I settled down to looking over whatever might remain. I didn’t know for sure what I’d be looking for, besides the obvious.
After a while I closed the file cabinet and went over and sat down and looked out the window.
A “G.” That was all I knew. Beyond that, and the fact that “G” was the other file letter Will had asked me to look up in Meyer’s files, I knew nothing at all of the one last despairing message Fredericks had tried to give me.
Except it had been a cursive “G” and it had been definitely leading into something: an ascending stroke. “G-I,” perhaps? “G-L”? I was wondering if Will would know — Will, who seemed to have a handle on almost everything that happened here in Hong Kong — when the phone rang.
I froze.
I looked down at my watch. Eleven-thirty, give or take a few minutes.
I picked it up. “Hello?” I said.
“Nick? Will here.”
“Will! What are you...”
“Not much time here to talk, Nick. Tatiana’s with me. We seem to have landed in the shit, old boy.”
“Where are you?”
He gave me an address in Wanchai, across the Strait. Of course, of course: that number he’d asked me to call at noon had had a Hong Kong Island prefix. “And look, Nick. Your deadly little friends are here, and...”
“Who?”
“The Israelis. They...”
“But that’s impossible. I... they just killed Fredericks. Right here. I just missed them. I saw the bigger one as he was getting away. They couldn’t have had time to get across the Strait and get to where you are. Not on the Ferry, not on a ’copter, not any way.”
“Well, whoever they are, they’ve got us boxed in. We’re in an office in the warehouse, Nick. The one the shipment was to have gone to. I’ve got the place barricaded, but they’ll be busting through in a few minutes, I think. Looks like I was right, there’s three groups. If only...”
“Will,” I said. “You said was to have gone to. It’s not here, then?”
“No. It was intercepted — hijacked out at sea, as far as I know, destination unknown. But I think Europe, Nick. Europe or the Middle East. Perhaps somewhere in the Mediterranean. I... no, Tatiana! Back from the door! No, my dear... Nick, where was I? Oh, yes... ah... well, I think it won’t be much longer. Nick, for the love of heaven, get through to David. Follow this up, all the way. This is something big, I’m sure of it — bigger than any damned single arms shipment. There’s a new factor in... in... N-no...”
“Will!” I said. “Will, hang on!”
“Oh, God... oh, God, my head... oh, God, not now... not n-n-n...” The rational voice became a low keening. There was a loud report in my ear; another. There was a woman’s shrill scream. More shots. Six, eight; I’m not sure how many. After a while somebody put the phone back on the hook.
After a while I put my own receiver down, too.
Chapter Fourteen
I called Basil Morse.
“Basil? Nick Carter. I...”
“Oh, Carter. I was wondering when the devil I’d be hearing from you.”
“Basil,” I said. “I’m at Meyer’s old place. I think you’d better get down here and have a look around.”
“Meyer’s...?” His voice was annoyed, nasal, intolerant “Where the devil is that?”
“68–72 Nathan Road, Basil. You’d better hurry. There’s been a murder here, and this one is going to kick up a bit of a stink in this tight little undercover community of yours here.”
“Murder? Look here, Carter, if you’ve killed...”
“Not me, it’s... Look, Basil. The cops are not going to be too far behind me, I just got here. You’ll want to give things a look-see before they arrive. The cops are going to impound this guy’s file cabinet as soon as they find this,” I said. “You’ll want to go through it. Look Basil...”
“Calm down, Carter. One can’t make heads or tails of things with you...”
“Basil, I saw who did it. It’s the same people who did in Meyer. And they did it the same way, with the same trademark. I want to put a description of both of them in every diplomatic bag we have. These guys are going to show up later, you can bet on that.”
“Yes, but...”
“Take my word for it. You want to look in those files. I’ll show you how. You start at. A. That’s up in the top drawer. Then you try B...”
“Oh, confound. 68–72, you said? Nathan Road?”
“Yes, and make it snappy. I haven’t any idea whether or not these bozos tipped off the cops beforehand. Not that I have any idea why they would, but I’m taking no chances. Get on the stick.”
“All right,” the stuffy voice said. “Uh... twenty minutes.”
“Make it fifteen.”
“All right.”
“Hey. Don’t hang up.”
“Oh?”
“You must have a man over in Victoria. Preferably in Wanchai, or as near to there as possible.”
“Yes, I...”
“Get hold of him immediately. Immediately. Get that? Send him around to this address.” I gave him the address Will had given me. “And in a hurry, and armed to the teeth. A couple of my friends are there, and they’ve been ambushed. I’m not quite sure by whom. I just got a call from them. We may be too late. But just in case there’s a chance, any chance at all...”
“Right. I’ll get right on it.”
“You do that.” I hung up.
Then I sat back down again and tried not to look down at Fred. He’d died with that last rush of blood from the deep slash on his neck, much as Meyer had. So many people had died, in so short a time. And for what? An arms shipment that somebody had beat them to?
I tried, too, not to think of Will. I knew just what had happened. He’d been ready for them — as ready as anyone ever gets — and, gutsy old devil that he was, he’d almost been looking forward to having the first of them burst through that door. Then the pain in his head had hit him, right when he needed it least, right when...
I shuddered. And Tatiana? Would she survive him for long? I doubted it. Not after they’d sicked those kung fu types on us back in Temple Street. No; they wouldn’t let her live, to tell what little she knew.
I shook my head, trying to clear it. I wanted a hundred percent lucidity right now, so that I could take it all in and catalogue it and crossfile it and index it so thoroughly that I’d never have the chance to forget it. I wanted it all clear as crystal in my mind, for the future.
Some day, somewhere, I was going to bring it all together. And I was going to make use of it. And when I did, the axe was going to fall on somebody. Hard.
I promised myself that much. For all of them.
I was still thinking all these things when Basil Morse turned up, a few minutes late again, but, I noticed, in no particular hurry this time. I didn’t get mad; I hadn’t expected him even to give me this much in the way of speed and despatch. I filed it away.
He walked in, looked down, and said, “Good lord.” He looked away quickly; I wasn’t sure whether or not he’d recognized the man on the floor. I filed that away too. “You... you’ve left no prints of your own?” he said.
“No,” I said. I didn’t know whether I was lying or not. I didn’t give a damn. I didn’t care whether or not somebody took out a billboard saying Nick Carter was in the room that day. I was feeling old and tired and stove-in, and I’d about had it with Hong Kong for now. “That’s the file cabinet over there,” I said. “I’ve been through it, but I was looking for my stuff. You know, riding my own hobbyhorse. There may be things in there that would concern you that wouldn’t me.” He made no move to examine it. He was staring at the wall, biting his lip. “Basil,” I said. “What the hell are you doing?”