Istanbul (4 page)

Three minutes later, with Mousy still gasping like a fish in the back seat, Nick wheeled a long black Opel sedan along a narrow, cobbled incline toward a corner. One of the large traffic mirrors the Turks use showed nothing approaching from either side. But he had, only a second before, heard a siren somewhere behind.

"Nereden donecegim?"
he asked Mousy in Turkish. "This is a dead end."

"Kuzeye,"
said Mousy. "Left — north for us. Your Turkish is still pretty good, N3."

Nick nodded. "I had a refresher." He swung the big car around the narrow corner to the left. "Where's the station?"

"It ain't the Hilton," the little man said. "We're in the old part of town — Stamboul. You'll hit Ataturk Boulevard just up here a way. Stay on it until you come to Millet Caddesi. Then we run on that nearly out to the old wall. It's a lousy part of town, believe me!"

"I do. I seem to remember someone trying to kill me around there one night."

Nick Carter's trained mind asked the next question almost without aid from his vocal organs. Perhaps it was only a small thing, but it was attention to the small things that kept you alive in this profession. A brand of cigarettes, the way a man's ears looked from behind, a nervous habit of some kind.

"If we're in Stamboul how come you people picked me up on the starboard instead of port? It would have been closer. This way we have to cross a bridge, for God's sake! That could be dangerous — bridges get jammed and they're easy to close!" He meant Morgan to hear the soft, yet steely, reprimand in his voice. N3 forgave no one mistakes — least of all himself!

"The truth is that I've had a little chicken in my blood these last few weeks, Nick. Especially since the last Narcotics man was killed — I don't mean Todhunter! That makes five now! And I've been here all alone! Hawk kept telling me he was sending someone, but he wouldn't say when or who! That must have been a very special briefing you had."

"It was," Nick said softly, remembering the man in the bedroom. "Go on, Mousy. You were getting nervous in the service so who doesn't sometimes?"

"I didn't just get nervous — I got real chicken. And I've had a funny feeling, too, of late! That maybe I've had it in this racket! That maybe I had better collect my chips and get out while I still could."

This time Nick's glance was sharp. He'd heard
that
tone before! Sensed the mood of defeatism and apprehension in an agent. It was not a good thing to see. And it was highly dangerous. When an agent was like that he made mistakes — usually fatal mistakes. He would have to see about Mousy at once — he couldn't afford to work with a man who thought his number might be up.

Meantime Mousy was saying: "Anyway I pulled out of the regular station in Pera and came over to Stamboul, to the alternate. I couldn't bring everything, of course, but I brought the basic stuff and the files we'll need. After what happened tonight I'm glad I did. I'm sure this new one is a safe hole, at least for a time. Todhunter didn't even know about it. I didn't want him to! I've had a funny feeling about Todhunter too, of late — not that I didn't trust him or anything like that! He had top clearance. And anyway I
knew
he was on the level — it was just that I had the idea that he might be getting a little careless!"

Nick slowed for a light. He said nothing, just watched the other man's face in the mirror. This time Mousy Morgan did not meet his eye.

Muezzins
were calling the faithful to prayer now, their wailing voices promising salvation over amplifiers. Most of the neon lights had flickered out. Traffic had thickened, a scurrying cluster of trams and
dolmus
cabs, donkeys and small cars. Queues were already forming for trams and buses.

The light changed. Nick eased into traffic again. Behind him Mousy Morgan said: "Another reason we had to come the hard way is that you can't steal any boats on this side of the Horn. You got to go to the fishermen for that."

Nick nodded. "Another reason is that Todhunter didn't know about this hole and you didn't want him to — you said that before. So we come the long way and drop him off someplace, then we loaf and see what happens. If he, or anyone, tries to follow us." Nick chuckled a little grimly. "So? You've been staring back out of that window for ten minutes now — anyone on our tail?"

"No," said Mousy. "I think it's okay." Nick could hear the relief in his voice. He felt a brief flash of pity for the little guy, then brushed it away. Pity didn't go in this business. He would have to watch Mousy like a hawk from now on.

A watery sun was shining now on the golden roofs of old Byzantium. Constantinople — Stamboul, whatever you called it, was a lovely and a dangerous town. The city was a beautiful woman you could never trust. This bothered N3 not at all. He never trusted a woman anyway. Or anyone else, for that matter. With the exception of Hawk. And he must call Hawk, soon, must report in. Mission Pilgrim had gotten off to a bad start!

Over his shoulder Nick said, "How much farther to this cave? It's getting too light for comfort — and it would be hard to explain a couple of bums like us driving a car like this. We've got to go to ground fast. Have a council of war. There are a hell of a lot of questions I want answered before tonight and — Mousy?"

"Yes, N3?"

"You know of course that I'm taking command? I'm Chief of Station as of now?"

The little agent's laugh was shrill with relief. "Know it? Brother, I've been praying for it!"

Nick grinned at him in the mirror. "Okay. Now try to relax. Keep those jitters under control, huh? As soon as I get things under control I'll see about getting a replacement for you."

Mousy Morgan smiled back at the big hard man he half worshiped and sometimes feared and knew he would never understand. "Hell, Nick, I'll be all right. Just a case of the shakes, I guess — seeing poor Tod get it that way! Hey — you turn of! just up here. Take the Vatan Road to the right until you see the Mihriman Mosque — and that's us. We're very close to the mosque. Sometimes I think we must be right under the damned thing!"

The ancient double wall that runs like a crescent moon from the Sea of Marmara to the Golden Horn was just ahead when Nick wheeled the Opel into a rutted muddy alley that ran between rows of wooden shacks. The alley stank in every sense of the word. It was rilled with every sort of rubbish and offal, human included. Flies swarmed. Cats prowled.

"Straight ahead now. Through the morgue — and I hope you can stand the smell. It's a pauper's morgue. They bring 'em here until they can be buried."

Nick glanced only cursorily at the half dozen nude bodies, male and female, which lay on a long table beneath trickling streams of water. He noticed that Mousy hurried past the table without glancing at it. Yes, Nick thought, the poor little bastard has really got the wind up! I'll have to get on to Hawk about him as soon as I can.

There were no attendants about. No one at all. This seemed strange and Nick asked Mousy about it.

"They're around all right. But AXE dough buys a lot of discretion from these people.
Backsheesh.
Anyway they don't give a damn. None of their business what crazy foreigners do as long as they can pay for it.
Inshallah!
You know — if Allah wills it! I've got so I feel that way myself. Everything is —
Inshallah!"

There was a single screw-in coat hook set into the wooden back wall of the primitive toilet they entered. Mousy twisted it and the wall turned enough to let them slip through into darkness. Immediately a new smell hit Nick's long suffering nostrils.

"Bones," said Mousy as he took out his pen flash and led Nick down a narrow stone floored incline. It was pitch dark in the shaft, except for Mousy's flash, and Nick put his own into use. The first thing he saw was a tremendous rat staring at him from a ledge, its little eyes red and feral and unafraid.

"Bones," the little man said again as they went deeper by the moment. "That's all we got down here, N3. Bones and skulls and rats. This used to be a catacombs, built under an old Christian church. They didn't bury them in those days, I guess. At least not all of them. They just took 'em down to the basement and stacked them up.

An odd thought struck Nick. The little guy seemed a lot more cheerful down here in this place of bones and rats. Probably felt safer.

Nick poked Mousy with his flash and chuckled, "Never mind the guided tour, kid. How much farther, for God's sake? And that girl — whatever her name was — you say you've got her down here in this place?"

Mousy actually laughed. "A lot farther, chief! All down — and down! And I've got the girl, yes. Mija — that's
Mee-Juh
— Gialellis. And wait 'till you see her! Nothing bony about this kid! A doll. Sweet! Beautiful in spite of all she's been through — I mean being hooked on the stuff and all. Hold it now..."

Mousy poked around with his flash until it rested on a small pile of skulls lying in the middle of the passage. He bent closer and peered, finally cursed and picked up one of the skulls. Nick saw that it had a small red cross marked between the staring empty eyes.

Mousy grunted in satisfaction. "Yeah — this is old Hector, all right. We got so many down here that I had to mark him to tell." He put Hector down and kicked away the rest of the pile of skulls. Nick saw the outline of a trapdoor. The little agent lifted it easily and swung it to one side, revealing a black oblong about three by three. Worn stone stairs circled down.

Mousy gestured with his flash. "Be my guest. Down about two hundred of those steps the girl is waiting. She must be getting stir crazy by now. But I suppose when she sees you, N3, her big brown eyes will light up like beacons!" Mousy gave a phony sigh. "Sometimes I wish I was handsome and big instead of intelligent."

Nick followed Mousy down into the hole. "You said you left someone with the girl? An Albanian?"

"Yeah. Old Bid. Selman Bid, I think." Mousy chuckled. "But he's a mute — can hear but can't talk. So
he
hasn't been much company!"

Nick said nothing as he followed Mousy down into the dark spiraling pit. He was thinking that he had been right in his diagnosis of Morgan — the little guy had had it. He was probably a candidate for the AXE head-shrinkers back in the States. They were good, the AXE skull-doctors, and sometimes they could salvage a good agent and send him back to duty after he'd cracked up. Sometimes.

Goddammit! Nick thought savagely. Everything has gone wrong on this mission so far. Todhunter gone and Mousy losing his guts and moving the station to this hellhole, and now the girl. Probably wouldn't be any help! None at all. Might still be on the dope — Mousy wasn't very reliable just now.

Might even be a plant! A beautiful little dope addict who had somehow managed to con everyone — the Turkish police, Narcotics, and now Mousy himself?

It seemed most improbable, but you never knew. Nick's smile vanished — how ironical if she
were
a plant! Working for
them,
for the enemy! Mousy had panicked and run from the Pera station — and he had brought the girl along. Right into the new station!

N3 took a deep breath, then sighed. He hoped she wasn't a plant. He had no real aversion to killing women, but he didn't like it.

They were so much more fun alive!

They had spent all day talking and planning, Nick and Mousy and the girl, Mija Gialellis, and Nick had not yet begun to form an opinion about her. She had not been out of the Hole since Mousy brought her there, so
that
was no danger. They hadn't been tailed there, or probably hadn't, because the enemy would have hit them before now. These scum didn't fool around — as witnessed by the attack by the cruiser that morning.

N3 was relating all this now to Hawk on the scrambler phone. His boss, like Queen Victoria, had not been amused. He had, in fact, been most upset.

"I just wish to hell you hadn't dropped Tiny Tim in their Golden Horn," he said in the chipped ice voice he used for anger. "Especially right now! The Turks are a little testy with us right now as it is — the Cyprus thing, you know. I just got the poop this morning from State — one of their cookie pushers called and asked us please not to antagonize the Turks in any way. Not just us, of course — everybody is being warned — but anyway the striped pants boys are flapping about it. Seems the Turks are going to the second Bandung Conference pretty soon and they'll be our only friend there — if that. Orders are that everybody handles them with kid gloves — and now you drop a miniature atom bomb in their harbor! Did you
have
to?"

Nick was glad his chief could not see his expression of disgust. "You ever try to fight a thirty-eight-foot cruiser with a stiletto, sir?"

After a long moment Hawk sighed. "Well, I suppose you had to. But State isn't kidding! In their powder-puff fumbling way they usually know what they're doing — and if the Turks grab you I'm afraid it would be a long time before we could get you out of the clink. Unofficially, of course. Officially we never heard of you."

"No need to remind me of that, sir." Nick was dry. "I know the rules."

"Just thought I'd remind you. The Turks
are
a little on edge just now. Of course they've got Ivan to worry about, as usual, and now they seem to think the Red Chinese are trying to stir up trouble in the Balkans. Probably are, too, but that's not our worry."

"I hope not," Nick said. "I've got about all I can handle now, what with Mousy going bad and not being sure of the girl and Todhunter was the last Narcotics man on the spot! I…"

Hawk broke in. "About Todhunter again — you think they were after
him?
Not you or Mousy? Let me have that again."

Nick repeated what he had said earlier. "Mousy came up with this, and I think he's right. One of the
other
Narcotics men that was killed was Pete Todhunter, Jim's brother! They were very close, Mousy says. And Mousy thought Jim had been getting careless. I think I know why — Jim had forgotten his job and gone into the vengeance business! That's why he fought the cruiser this morning instead of going over the side."