The Terrible Ones (17 page)

Chin You did as he was told. Tsing-fu listened to the muffled screams and gazed around the comfortable apartment. Yes, indeed, he thought, this was a comfortable place. He might as well stay here until his mission was completed.

He was rather pleased with himself. One small item in a yellowish newspaper had led him to a man who had held a minor post in the late Trujillo’s government. That man had been persuaded to tell him of other men, now living quietly under assumed names, who in their turn had been persuaded to yield up useful little nuggets of information. Garcia-Gallindez, he was positive, was the last link in his chain of clues. Tsing-fu watched his victim writhe.

“Remove the gag, Fong,” he said easily. “I think our friend is trying to tell us something.”

Garcia-Galindez took a deep, wheezing breath and began to talk.

Tsing-fu listened. His brow furrowed into a scowl. This clue was as obscure as the rest of them.

“What does that mean?” he screamed, his sudden rage turning his pale face scarlet. “Where is the place? Where is it?”

“The Valley of the Shadow!” Nick roared triumphantly. “That’s it! It’s got to be. It won’t be one of the restaurants, or the airport, or the railroad station or the barber shop, or any of those places. The Valley of the Shadow is the only place that fits. But where is it? It isn’t on the map.”

Luz crinkled her forehead. “I’ve lived here all my life,” she said, “And I’ve never heard of it. They made up the name, perhaps?”

“They didn’t make up the other names,” said Nick. “They’re all places in around Santo Domingo. Why should they invent one name? Unless— wait a minute. Unless it’s a description, not a name.” He traced his forefinger over the map of Santo Domingo and the outlying countryside. “There are several here that don’t have names. And I know they’re sizable valleys because I’ve been through half of them.”

“Of course they don’t all have proper names,” Lucia said. “They are too small to matter. But the people who live in or near them give them names that are more like, as you say, descriptions. For instance, there is one called the Valley of the Cows, because of one little dairy farmer who uses its slopes for grazing his herd. And then there is the Valley of the Pomegranates, because—”

“I get the point,” said Nick. “But what about the Valley of the Shadow?”

“There is a place that more or less fits that name,” Paula said slowly. “It’s not so much a valley as a deep ravine, and I’ve never heard it called anything at all. In fact, I’ve never seen it. But Tonio mentioned it to me once as we passed nearby on the road to—” She stopped suddenly and caught her breath. “
Tonio
mentioned it to me! My husband. He said that he knew it from his hiking days, that it was a strange and gloomy place that was in shadow all day long except at noon. There was overhanging rock nearly all the way around, he said. And I remember laughing and asking him when he had ever been a hiker, because that was the first I’d heard of it. And then he changed the subject. I wondered why, and then forgot it. But I should think it would have made a perfect meeting place for a group of agile men. Which they all were.”

“Now she tells us!” Nick exclaimed. “After all these days of poking about, and you’ve had the secret all the time.”

“It was years ago,” Paula said a little stiffly. “And how could I possibly connect it with the treasure hunt— And we don’t know yet that it has anything to do with it.”

“Paula, it has to,” Isabella said intensely. “It’s all too coincidental otherwise. How many sUch valleys can there be? Think of the clues—they all match now.”

“Yes, but he didn’t say anything about there being a castle or a monastery of any sort down there,” Paula objected. “And it sounds like an impossible place for any sort of building.”

“Not impossible,” said Nick. “Just difficult. You said yourself it isn’t easy to hide a castle. And what better place for a bunch of monks who’ve taken a vow of secrecy?” He pushed back his chair. “Paula, you’re going to take me there.”

“One moment,” Alva said softly. “It is
our
hunt, if you remember. This time we should all go.”

“Honey, I think we’re liable to be a bit conspicuous,” Nick said reasonably. “Let me scout it first and if it looks promising we’ll all go in together. Let’s go, Paula.”

“Just a minute,” she said firmly. “Alva’s right. It
is
our hunt. And if you’re so sure it is the place, we
will
all go together.”

“Now, look—” Nick began, and stopped suddenly as he found himself surrounded by eight vibrant women with fire in their eyes. They were gorgeous, they were sexy, they were appealing, they were determined, and they outnumbered him. The worst of it was that without Paula he could not find the place. And she was against him, too. He caught her eye and scowled.

The bitch was smiling at him.

“You do want to come with us, don’t you?” she said invitingly.

He gave up. They were too much for him.

Dr. Tsing-fu danced a crazy little jig of delight. “That’s all we need, that’s all we need!” he crowed exultantly. “Mao-Pei, you can find the place?”

Mao-Pei stood in the doorway of Garcia’s living room, his sullen face alight. He nodded.

“I can find the place. He gives good directions, the stupid pig”

“Then let us go,” trilled Tsing-fu Shu. “Chin You, kill the fool!”

Garcia-Galindez had figuratively spilled his guts. Now he did so literally. Chin You knew how to kill to please his master.

Tsing-fu sighed happily. It was a pity not to prolong the joyous moment, but he had other things to do.

The crescent moon cast its sickly light upon the mountain slope. Nick glanced back and dimly saw them following him, eight shapeless forms that he knew belonged to eight lean and leggy, lovely women. The nearest one was close behind him.

“Have them spread out along the rim, Paula,” Nick said quietly. “And don’t let any of them make a move until I give the signal. You’re sure this is the place?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Didn’t I spend half the night looking for landmarks?”

“Yes, you did, slowpoke.” Nick patted her cheek and grinned at her in the darkness. “Now deploy your troops and keep them quiet until dawn. It won’t be long now. If anybody hears anything—”

“They’re to give a whistle,” she finished for him, and turned away to head for her second-in-command.

“Wait.” Nick touched her lightly on the arm. “When you’ve talked to them, come back to me. I’ll be up there.” He gestured up toward the rim of the ravine.

“All right,” Paula said softly, and glided off.

Nick climbed the last few yards of the steep slope and stared down into absolute darkness. The faint moonlight showed outjutting rock and thickly foliaged treetops, and that was all. He could well imagine the shadows that must envelop this place even at high noon.

The soil beneath his feet was covered with soft moss and rotting leaves. To his right, the great umbrella-like leaves of some luxuriant tropical plant bent low to form an excellent hiding place. Nick crouched beneath it and looked back to see Paula spreading out her squad of women. One by one they were taking up positions to either side of him and disappearing into cover. They were all armed, all disciplined, all silent as guerillas in a jungle. It was a funny way to pay a visit to a bunch of innocent monks, supposing there were any monks about, but by the time Nick and his unlikely troop had gone through all the clues again and considered the opposition it had seemed to be the only way.

He sniffed the fresh night air. And frowned. It was not quite so fresh as it should be. Smoke. So? Even monks built fires. He sniffed again. Cordite? Phosphorus? It was both, he was almost sure, and there was a smell of burnt wood as well. For a moment he was tempted to toss his own flare into the valley below to see what its bright light would reveal. But that would be the end of stealth, so he decided not to. Yet the smell in the air convinced him that he and Paula’s Terrible Ones were not the first arrivals.

He heard her soft whistle from nearby and he whistled back.

Paula appeared beside him.‘

“You’ve found yourself a nice, secluded spot,” she murmured.

Nick reached for her swiftly and pulled her down to the soft moss.

“I had to be alone with you for just one moment,” he whispered. “The ladies are all dolls and I love them dearly, but they do get in the way.” He brushed his lips over her face and kissed her tenderly. She cupped his head between her hands and stroked his hair.

“It has been difficult,” she breathed. “I wanted so much to come into your room, but . . .” She chuckled softly. “I think they all did. It would have been unfair of me.”

“Oh, I wanted you,” he murmured, and his arms encircled her. “When this is over we’ll find a place to be alone together— a boat, a barn, right here, anywhere. Whatever happens tonight, promise me we’ll have that time.”

“My darling, my darling, I promise you.” Their arms tightened about each other and their lips met in a flaming kiss. Nick’s pulses raced as he felt her so close to him, felt the soft warmth of her breasts press longingly against him. His tongue probed passionately and his body filled with sudden heat. Paula trembled violently against him and gave herself up completely to his kiss. He ground his body against hers, wishing savagely that he could rip the clothes off both of them right then and there and sink himself deep into the warmth of her. Paula gasped and clung to him, her fingers digging into his back and her tongue searching desperately as if with her mouth she could give him all the love that was stirring so hotly in her body.

Just as suddenly they drew apart, panting for breath and fighting down their rising desire.

“Oh, Paula,” Nick muttered, pulling himself together with an effort. “Let’s get this thing done with so we can do what really matters.”

She touched his hand lightly and moved away from him.

“It will be soon,” she promised. “I know it will be soon. But I must leave you now, or it will be—too soon.”

He laughed softly, wanting her still but knowing this was not the time.

“I’m going down there now,” he said. “I know we agreed to wait for morning light but I have a suspicion that someone’s beaten us to it.”

Paula drew in her breath sharply. “But how will you see where you are going?”

“For the first part of the trip I don’t need to see,” he said grimly, pulling on his climbing claws. “This can’t be any worse than Cap St. Michel. And wait for my signal, understand?”

“I’ll wait. But please take care. I love you.”

She kissed him once more, quickly, and was gone.

Nick felt his way toward the edge and lowered himself gingerly. It seemed to him that he was always climbing when he would much rather be doing something else. But at least this was a little easier than the Haitian climb.

Minutes later he was on the floor of the narrow valley pulling off his claws and peering into the pre dawn gloom. There was no sign of anything remotely like a castle. There was no sign of anything at all.

A frog croaked hoarsely nearby; the croaking ended in a tiny splash.

Still waters! Nick’s heartbeat quickened. ‘Still waters’ in the Valley of the Shadow . . . of Death? The smell of smoke hung heavy in the air, a reminder that death was probably quite near.

Nick raised his night-seeing telescope and held it to his eye. Through its circle of eerie green light, visible to him alone, he could see the sharp outlines of the valley walls. He swung the finder slowly over rocks and trees. Stopped suddenly, swung it back and re-focused. A stone wall sprang clearly into view.

It was the wall of something very much like a medieval stronghold, built under overhanging rock and blending imperceptibly into the natural rock face. A clump of thick bush almost, but not quite, hid a doorway . . . and the heavy, iron-studded door was hanging limply on its hinges, a great hole blasted through it. Leaning against the clump of bushes was a Chinese soldier with a carbine dangling from his shoulder, an odd way for a man to stand.

He was not standing. He was sprawled back against the bushes, and he was dead.

So they had a little difficulty getting in, Nick thought grimly. But they’d made it. Some of them. He wondered just how many.

He panned the scope from one side of the valley to the other, looking for a sign of life. There was none, but for a little ripple on the surface of the quiet pool at the far side of the valley, and a narrow stone stairway hacked out of the crude rock by the hand of man. At the foot of it there were two almost-human figures, but they were deader than the stone itself. Nick stared at them through the glass and felt slightly revolted. Their heads had been blown off. Grenades, it looked like. It was impossible to make out for certain what they had been before being smeared across the valley floor, but their mutilated bodies were wearing what looked like Cuban Army fatigues.

And that was all the telescope could tell him, except that flares had been used to light the way into and across the valley and that there was nothing to stop him walking straight in through the open door.

He padded silently across the soft damp grass, past the dead Chinese soldier with the big hole in his chest, and into a tunnellike hall. In the absolute darkness his foot kicked against something soft and bulky. Nick flicked on his flashlight. The body of a big-bellied monk lay at his feet, its black cowl sticky with blood from the bullet hole in the man’s head. A second monk lay sprawled several feet away, his cowl ripped away from his face and a look of outrage in his dead and staring eyes. An ancient blunderbuss lay on the floor beside him. And there was something else.

A Chinese in bloodied olive drabs was slowly raising himself from the floor and the gun in his wavering hand was pointing at Nick’s chest.

Wilhelmina spoke once with a muted thunk of sound. The man sighed softly and dropped like a weighted sack.

Nick picked his way between the bodies down the passage toward another sound, a distant one that suddenly pierced the stillness and rose into a shriek. He turned a corner into another passage, this one lit by the flickering light of a single candle in a holder on the wall, and stepped over another dead monk. The shriek became a frenzied string of recognizable words. He listened as he padded on, disgusted by the carnage around him and chilled by the madness in the shrieking voice.