Authors: Nick Carter

Tags: #det_espionage

The Code (8 page)

BOOK: The Code

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I left the hospital by the back stairs. I was walking briskly across the parking lot when a long car turned off the highway and came to a halt alongside me. A door swung open and Hawk said, "Nick, I'm glad you're up and about."

Hoping I didn't look like a school-kid caught playing hooky, I obeyed his signal to climb into the limousine.

"You were planning to call me, I suppose. Certainly you wouldn't leave the hospital and take up the chase again without letting me know."

"Certainly not," I said.

"You weren't afraid that I'd veto the idea and say you were in no condition to pursue a wolfpack of killers?"

"No, sir," I replied, respect in my voice. "You know I'd take myself off a job if I didn't feel I was able to handle it."

"When you get too old for this line of work, Nick, I'm going to recommend you for the diplomatic service," Hawk sighed. "I was in Denver anyway and since I suspected you'd pull something like this, I came on over. Would you like someone assigned to you as a reinforcement?"

"No sir. I'd rather follow up on it alone."

Hawk slid the soundproof glass panel between us and the two men in the front seat.

"It's no longer simply a question of avenging Kirby, is it, Nick?"

I shook my head. "There's the girl, too. But there's more to it than personal vengeance. The man who leads the killers is a sadist who'll go on slaughtering people if he isn't stopped."

Hawk flipped down a panel in front of him and tugged out a tape recorder. He pressed a button. In an official-sounding voice, he said, "Give me your report, N3."

I related the events that had occurred since my arrival in Bonham and then Hawk cut off the recorder. "That takes care of the official part of it. The rest that is said is strictly between the two of us. I'm going to permit you to continue with this on your terms. Get the bastards, Nick."

"You realize our security was breached at the base on the Carolina coast, don't you?"

"I'll take care of that," Hawk said in a hard voice.

"I think the base was infiltrated by an agent of the Mafia. They were after the information we'd gathered on the girl, and they were seeking Frank Abruze's killers. They can't have a pack of mavericks knocking off a man to whom they'd promised security and retirement. It's a direct challenge and an affront."

"Agreed," Hawk said. "I've drawn the same conclusions."

"There are some missing pieces to the puzzle. Like why an assassin apparently working for the Mafia tried to kill me, but Marco Valante lent me a hand. Quiz your Mafia experts about that. Maybe they can come up with a theory."

"Consider it done."

"The men who killed Abruze and Kirby are looking for their blood money now. I'm convinced Sheila told them the truth and that she didn't know what happened to the cash. They killed her for no good reason except that killing is Moose's bag. There are three of them, by the way, not four."

"What lead do you have to follow from here?" Hawk asked.

"This address book Moose dropped while we were wrestling the other night. There are seven names in it I'm going to pay a visit to each of these people. Maybe One of them will lead me to Moose."

"If Moose and his confederates or the Mafia don't get you first." Hawk flipped through the address book. "These are women's names, all of them."

"And each in a different city. Moose has lady friends all over the map."

"I'll have a check made of the FBI's files. Maybe they'll tell us something about Moose and his friends. From your description, he's the size of the Jolly Green Giant. That's a start."

I reached for the address book, but Hawk was in no hurry to return it "Nick, this is more than a list of names. If s a sexual catalog. Did you read these comments Moose wrote about the seven girls?"

"Yes," I said. "Pretty racy stuff."

"He describes what each of them does best in the sexual line. Trudy in Los Angeles sounds sensational."

"Personally, I liked the references he gave Cora in Vegas. Tell you what, I'll let you know how accurate Moose's notes are."

"You're a strapping physical specimen, my boy, but I don't see how you could personally explore the subject in depth without wearing yourself down to skin and bones," Hawk said in an amused voice. "The delights of Barbara, for example, are such that even Moose couldn't describe them. He simply underlined her name and put exclamation points behind it."

"Maybe he did that because she's the only virgin in the bunch."

"I rather doubt that Moose knows any virgins," Hawk said. "I suppose it isn't necessary for me to point out that all of these girls are probably involved in underworld activity and will most likely be involved with hoods who won't hesitate to kill you if they get suspicious?"

"It'll be a fun trip, all right."

Hawk closed the book and passed it to me. "What else, Nick? Are you holding back anything?"

"No," I lied. "That's it. I'll be in touch."

He spoke my name again as I was getting out of the car. "Sheila made quite an impact on you, didn't she? What was she like?"

"I couldn't say. I didn't get to know her that well."

What I hadn't mentioned was that one of the names in Moose's book could belong to the girl we'd known as Sheila Brant. AXE had been unable to pin a past on her, but she must have had one before she met Frank Abruze.

I was pursuing Sheila's ghost as well as her killers.

Five

If there was one big drawback to my job, other than the hours and the high mortality rate, it was that I was required to spend more time in other people's countries than I spent in my own.

I had not seen El Pueblo Nuestra Senora la Reinda de Los Angeles de Porciuncula, known to most of us as just plain L.A., in two years. The city had changed, not entirely for the better. The climate, so like that of the Mediterranean countries, was still beautiful and so were the girls. But the traffic and the smog had grown thicker.

As I worked my way into a drugstore telephone booth, I was wondering how Trudy, who had rated the first page in Moose's sexual
Who's Who,
would compare to some of the knockouts sitting at the soda fountain waiting to be discovered. The great American dream of stardom never dies.

A female voice answered the telephone and sounded disappointed when I asked for Trudy. "I'll call her." While I waited, I looked at the legs of the girls at the soda fountain and kicked open the door of the booth so I could share the air conditioning. The days were getting hotter and I was wearing a lot of bandage about my chest.

Trudy's voice sounded sultry, but maybe my judgment was influenced by Moose's capsule description of her talents in the bedroom. When I told her a friend had suggested I get in touch with her, she invited me to come around. It was as easy as falling off a bar stool. "I'm crazy about meeting new people," she said.

I soon discovered the reason. Meeting new people was Trudy's business. She worked in a bordello. She led me up a flight of stairs, clinging to my hand and talking a blue streak.

"You come highly recommended. I got your number from Moose," I said.

"Moose? Oh, sure." She tugged me into a room and slid down the zipper of my trousers while I was still looking around. "I have to check you over, honey, and give you a nice bath. The lady I work for says cleanliness is next to prosperity."

I evaded her deft grasp. "She must be quite a philosopher. I'd like to meet her sometime."

"No, you wouldn't. She's as cold as a loanshark's heart. Most madams are. Those movies where they have hearts of gold, that's a lot of Hollywood nonsense. What's the matter with you, honey? You got a thing about being touched?"

At least I'd found a talker, I thought. If I asked her for directions to the stadium, she'd probably throw in the baseball club's lineup and last season's record.

Trudy plastered herself against me. She was a big girl, a beauty parlor blonde, and there was a lot of her to plaster. Her nipples prodded my chest like bullets.

"What happened to your face, honey?" She touched the cut at the edge of my lip, the stitches the doctor had put in the side of my head. "You look as if you fell into cement mixer."

"I had an accident*

"I'm sorry." Her hand seized hold of me again. "My, you're a real man, aren't you?"

She probably told that to all her customers, but she sounded as if she meant it. I backpedaled hastily and worked at my zipper, knowing that if Hawk could see me now, he'd burst out laughing.

"I want to ask you about Moose. When did you see him last?"

"I really don't remember. Is that what you came here for, to find out where Moose is?"

"You're a smart girl. You saw through me right away, didn't you?" I laid the flattery on as thick as I could. "I am looking for the big clown. We kind of lost touch, you know what I mean?"

She edged closer to me and slid her left arm around my waist. Her right hand found my zipper again. She was faster than a pickpocket. "Since you're here, you might as well enjoy the visit. What turns you on?"

I caught hold of her groping hand and turned it palm up. I pressed three twenties into her curled fingers. "Tell me about Moose."

Her friendliness tapered off sharply. She folded the bills neatly and stuffed them into my belt "I sell sex, not information."

"Moose and I are old friends. But we lost touch, like I said. Look, he gave me your number, didn't he?"

"You could be lying about that. Anyway, I don't remember when I saw Moose last and I don't know where he is. Even if he's your long-lost brother, I don't want to talk about him."

I took out two more twenties, folded all five together and stuck them into her low-cut blouse. "Are you sure?"

"I'm absolutely sure. Moose likes to knock people around, and he does a good job of it. Nobody talks about him to strangers."

"Give me an old address, a telephone number even. I won't tell where I got it."

Trudy fished between her large breasts and pulled the bills out. She stroked the wrinkles out of them. "I haven't seen him in several months, maybe even a year. Honest. And I never knew any address. He came around here from time to time, that's all."

"He had a name, didn't he?"

"I thought you were a pal of his. Pals know each others names." She threw the bills at me and they fluttered to the floor. "You don't even look like a friend of his. You look too honest. Pick up your bribe and beat it."

Negotiation having failed, I tried a more direct approach. I pushed back my coat so that she could see the Luger nestled in its leather sheath. "I want a name, Trudy."

She licked her lower lip. "You a cop?"

"No, just a man looking for Moose."

"Jones is his name." She laughed nervously. "You probably don't believe me, but it's the honest-to-God truth. His name is Edward Jones. And that's all I can tell you."

"Thanks," I said as I walked to the door. "You can keep the bribe."

I waited outside the house for three hours, slumped down in the car seat and trying to look inconspicuous. I was about ready to flunk myself on character analysis when Trudy finally appeared and flagged a taxi.

Carter, I thought, it's a good thing you aren't a trusting soul.

I took off behind the cab, which led me across town to a cheap apartment house. I followed Trudy inside in time to spot her darting up a flight of stairs. At the end of a long hallway, the busty blonde knocked on a door. When she got no reply, she knocked harder. Then she turned and saw me and her eyes widened in astonishment.

"Your story didn't have the ring of truth," I told her, "but I got my money's worth. You led me here."

"Clever as hell, aren't you?" she spat.

I tried the door. "Apparently Moose isn't home. What do you suggest we do about that?"

She ran for the next flight of stairs. I pursued her to the roof and cornered her. She fought and scratched my face, tried to knee me in the groin, and called me some names I hadn't heard in years. Considering my widely varied travels, that was saying quite a lot for her vocabulary.

I pulled her wrists behind her and forced her over to the edge of the roof. "Now let's hear the truth about Moose."

"You won't push me off. He would, but you won't."

"Don't count on it, Trudy. Moose killed a friend of mine and beat a girl to death. I'm going to find him and I don't care what I have to do along the way."

She was panting. "Is that true, about the girl? Are you on the level?"

"The girl's name was Sheila. Did you ever hear Moose mention her?"

"Never. And I haven't seen him lately. He lived in that apartment when I knew him. I thought he'd like to know you were looking for him. That's the only reason I came. I swear it is."

"Does he call himself Edward Jones, or did you make that up?"

"He used the name when I knew him. He's probably used a dozen more. If you don't believe me, go back to the house and quiz the other girls. They'll tell you the same. He's a heist man. He boasted about having pulled some big capers."

I turned her loose. "All right."

"Can I go now?"

"Take off," I said.

Trudy looked back when she reached the stairway.

"He beat her to death?"

"Yeah," I said. My voice was hoarse.

I found the cheap lock on the apartment door easy to spring. The rooms were vacant and dust lay on the furniture. The last occupant had been gone for quite a while. I glanced around me disgustedly. I had hoped for more.

Company was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs. I tried not to show my surprise when I saw her.

"What you said put me to thinking," Trudy said.

"Did it?"

"About the girl, I mean. Was she your girl?"

"No," I said. "But she didn't deserve to die that way."

BOOK: The Code

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