Temple of Fear (11 page)

"Got it, sir."

"Right. Get it out at once."

Hawk clicked the intercom off and sat back, stripping a cigar without looking at it. He was playing a hunch. Nick Carter was onto something — God might know, for Hawk certainly didn't — and he had decided to stay out of it. Let Nick work it out his own way. If any man in the world could take care of himself it was Killmaster.

Hawk picked up one of the flimsies and studied it again. His thin mouth, which often reminded Nick of a wolf trap, quirked in a dry smile. Ames had done his job well. It was all here — as far as Tokyo International Airport.

Nick, accompanied by four Japanese Girl Scouts, had boarded a Northwest Airlines plane in Washington. He had been in a gay mood and had insisted on kissing a stewardess and shaking hands with the Captain. At no time had he been really obnoxious, or only slightly, and it was only when he insisted on dancing in the aisle that the co-captain had been summoned to quiet him down. Later he had ordered champagne for all aboard the plane. He had led the other passengers in song, proclaiming that he was a flower child and that love was his thing.

The Girl Scouts had managed to control him fairly well, actually, and the crew, questioned by Ames over long distance, admitted that the flight had been lively and different. Not that they would care to do it again.

They had, with absolutely no reluctance, poured Nick off at Tokyo International and watched the Girl Scouts whisk him into Customs. Beyond that they did not know.

Ames, still by phone, had established that Nick and the Girl Scouts had gotten into a taxi and vanished into the wild melee of Tokyo traffic. And that was that.

And yet it was not quite all. Hawk turned to another yellow flimsy containing his own notes.

Cecil Aubrey, a little reluctantly, had at last admitted that his tip on Richard Philston had come from one Kunizo Matu, a retired karate teacher now living in Tokyo. Aubrey did not know exactly where in Tokyo.

Matu had lived in London for many years and had worked for MI5.

"We always suspected him of being a double," Aubrey had said. "We thought he worked for Jap Intelligence, too, but we could never prove it. We didn't really care at the moment. Our, er, interests didn't clash and he did a good job for us."

Hawk had gotten out some old files and searched back. His memory was very nearly perfect, but he liked to confirm.

Nick Carter had known Kunizo Matu in London, in fact, used him on a couple of jobs. There was not much else to be gleaned from the barren reports. Nick Carter had a way of keeping personal business just that — personal.

And yet — Hawk sighed and pushed the stack of papers away. He stared at the Western Union clock. This was a devious profession and very seldom did the left hand know what the right was doing.

Ames had searched the apartment and found Nick's Luger and stiletto in the mattress. That was odd, Hawk conceded. He must feel naked without them.

But Girl Scouts! How in hell had they gotten into the act? Hawk began to laugh, a thing he very rarely did. Gradually he lost control and sat helplessly in the chair, eyes tearing, and laughed until his chest muscles began to pain.

Delia Stokes did not believe it at first. She peered through the door. Sure enough. The old man was sitting there and laughing like a loon.

There is a first time for everything. This was the first time Nick had ever panhandled. He selected his victim well, a middle-aged, well-dressed man carrying an expensive-looking briefcase. He bummed fifty yen off the man, who looked Nick up and down, wrinkled his nose and dug into his pocket. As he handed the note to the AXEman, he bowed slightly and tipped his black Homburg.

Nick bowed in return.
"Arigato, kandai na-sen."

"Yoroshii desu."
The man turned away.

Nick got off at Tokyo Station and walked west toward the Palace grounds. The incredible Tokyo traffic was already building into a writhing mass of taxis, trucks, clanging trams and private cars. A crash-helmeted motorcyclist slammed past with a girl clinging to the pillion.
Kaminariyoku.
Thunder breed.

What now, Carter? No papers and no money. Wanted for questioning by the police. It was time to go to ground for awhile — if he had any place to go. He doubted that it would do him much good to go back to the Electric Palace. Anyway it wouldn't be open this early.

He sensed the taxi gliding to a halt beside him and his hand snaked inside the trenchcoat to the Colt in his waistband. "Sssttttt — Carter-san! In here!"

It was Kato, one of the three weird sisters. Nick took a fast look around. It was a perfectly ordinary taxi and there didn't seem to be any followers. He got in. Maybe he could borrow a few yen.

Kato huddled in her corner. She gave him a perfunctory smile and rapped a command to the driver. The taxi took off in the usual manner of Tokyo taxis, with tires screaming and the driver daring anything to get in the way.

"Surprise," said Nick. "I didn't expect to see you again, Kato. You
are
Kato?"

She nodded. "I am honored to see you again, Carter-san. But it is not of my seeking. There is much trouble. Tonaka is missing."

A nasty worm turned in his belly. He waited.

"She did not answer her phone. Sato and I went to her apartment and there had been a fight — everything is torn to pieces. And she is gone."

Nick nodded toward the driver.

"He is okay. One of us."

"What do
you
think happened to Tonaka?"

Her shrug was forlorn. "Who can say? But I am afraid — we all are. Tonaka was our leader. It is possible that Johnny Chow has her. If so he will torture her and make her lead them to her father. Kunizo Matu. The Chicoms wish to kill him because he rights back against them."

He did not tell her. But he began to understand why Matu was dead and how he had been so nearly trapped.

Nick patted her arm. "I will do what I can. But I need money and a place to hide for a few hours until I can make a plan. You can arrange this?"

"Yes. We go there now. To a geisha house in Shimbasi. Mato and Sato will also be there. As soon as they do not find you."

He pondered that. She saw his confusion and smiled faintly. "We have all been looking for you. Sato, Mato and myself. All in separate taxis. We go to all stations and look. Tonaka did not tell us much — just that you have gone to see her father. It is better, you see, that each of us does not know too much about what others do. But when Tonaka is missing we know we must find you for help. So we get taxis and start looking. It is all we know to do — and it worked. I find you."

Nick had been studying her as she spoke. This was not the Girl Scout of Washington and the plane. Geisha! He should have guessed.

At the moment there was nothing geisha about her but the elaborate hairdo. She had, he imagined, been working that night and early morning. Geishas kept weird hours, dictated by the whims of their various protectors. Now her face was still shiny with the cold cream she had used to remove the chalky makeup. She wore a tan pullover sweater, a mini-skirt and a tiny pair of black Korean boots.

Nick wondered just how safe a geisha house would be. Yet it was all he had. He lit his last cigarette and began asking questions. He did not intend to tell her any more than he must. It was best, as she herself had mentioned.

"About this Pete Fremont, Kato. Tonaka told me that you stole his clothes? These clothes?"

"That is true. It was a small thing." She was obviously puzzled.

"Where was Fremont when you did this?"

"In bed. Sleeping. We thought so."

"Thought so? Was he or wasn't he?" Something pretty fishy here.

Kato regarded him solemnly. She had a smear of lipstick on one shiny front tooth.

"I say thought so. We take his clothes. Easy, because his girl not there then. Later we find out that Pete is dead. He die in sleep."

Christ! Nick counted slowly to five.

"Then what did you do?"

She shrugged again. "What can do? We need the clothes for you. We take. We know that Pete die of
wsuki,
he drink, drink all the time, and that nobody kill him. We leave. Then later we go back and take body away and hide it so police not find out."

Very softly he said, "They did find out, Kato." Rapidly he explained his encounter with the police, leaving out the fact that Kunizo Matu was also dead

Kato did not seem very impressed. "Yes. I am sorry. But I know what happen, I think. We leave to take clothes to Tonaka. His girl come. She find Pete dead from alcohol and call police. They come. All then leave. We come back, not knowing police and girl have been there, and we take body and hide it. Okei?"

Nick sat back. "I suppose okay," he said weakly. It would have to do. It was wacky but at least it explained matters. And it just might help him — the Tokyo cops had lost a body and they might be a little embarrassed. They might decide to play it down, keep it quiet for a time, at least until they found the body or gave up on it. That meant that his description wouldn't be in the newspapers or on radio and television. Not yet. So his cover as Pete Fremont was still good — up to a point. With the wallet it would have been better, but that was gone forever.

They passed the Shiba Park Hotel and turned right toward the Hikawa Shrine. It was a district of apartment houses, with here and there a villa set back in its formal garden. It was one of the top geisha districts, where the ethics were rigid and the behavior discreet. Gone were the days when the girls had to live in a
mizu shobai
atmosphere, beyond the pale. Comparisons were always invidious — in this case especially so — but Nick had always thought of geishas as on a par with the very highest class of New York call girl. With the geishas far superior in brains and talent.

The taxi turned into a driveway that led back through gardens and past a pool and miniature bridge. Nick tugged the smelly trenchcoat closer about him. A bum like him was going to stand out a little in a high class gheisha house.

Kato patted his knee. "We will go to a private place. Mato and Sato will come soon and we can talk. Make plans. We must, for if you do not help now, cannot help, it will be very bad for all Eta girls."

The taxi rolled to a stop under a porte-cochere. The house was big and blocky, Western style, of stone and brick. Kato paid the driver and hustled Nick inside and upstairs to a quiet sitting room furnished in modern Swedish.

Kato perched herself in a chair, tugged down her mini-skirt and looked at Nick. At the moment he was helping himself to a modest drink from a small bar in one corner.

"You want take a bath, Carter-san?"

Nick held up the Scotch and peered through the amber. Lovely color. "A
bassu
would be number one. Have I got time?" He found a carton of American cigarettes and broke it open. Life was looking up.

Kato glanced at a watch on her slim wrist. "'I think so. Plenty time. Mato and Sato say, if they not find you, they go to Electric Palace and see if any message."

"Message from who?"

The slim shoulders moved beneath the sweater. "Who knows? Maybe you. Maybe even Tonaka. If Johnny Chow has her maybe he let us know, so to frighten us."

"Maybe so."

He sipped at his Scotch and watched her. She was nervous. Very nervous. She was wearing a single strand of small pearls and she kept gnawing at them, getting lipstick on them. She kept fidgeting in the chair, crossing and recrossing her legs, and he saw a flash of brief white pants.

"Carter-san?"

"Yeah?"

She chewed the nail of her little finger. "I like to ask you something. Yo'u not get angry?"

Nick grinned. "Probably not. I can't promise that, Kato. What is it?"

Hesitation. Then; "You like me, Carter-san? You think I am pretty?"

He did. She was. Very pretty. Like a sweet little lemon-colored doll. He told her so.

Kato looked at her watch again. "I am most bold, Carter-san. But I do not care. I am liking you now for a long time — ever since we try to sell you cookies. Most liking you. We have time now, no men come until evening, and Mato and Sato not yet. I would like to take a bath with you and then make love. You do?"

He was genuinely touched. And knew he was being honored. In the first instant he did not want her and then, in the next instant, he knew that he did. Why not? It was, after all, what it was all about. Love — and death.

She misunderstood his hesitation. She came to him and brushed her fingers over his face lightly. Her eyes were long and darkest brown and full of amber sparks.

"You understand," she said softly, "that it is not a business thing. I am not being geisha now. I give. You take. You will do?"

He understood that her need was great. She was frightened and, for the moment, alone. She needed comfort and this was what she understood.

He kissed her. "I'll take," he said. "But first I will take
bassu."

She led him to a bathroom. A moment later she joined him in the shower and they soaped and scrubbed each other in all the fine and private places. She had a lily smell and her breasts were those of a pubescent girl.

She took him into an adjacent bedroom with a real United States bed. She made him stretch out, supine. She kissed him and whispered, "You be still, Carter-san. I do everything at first."

"Not quite everything," said Nick Carter.

They were sitting quietly in the outer room, smoking and regarding each other with satisfied affection when the door burst open and Mato and Sato came in. They had been running. Sato was crying. Mato was carrying a parcel wrapped in brown, paper. She extended it to Nick.

"This come to Electric Palace. For you. With a note. We have... have read the note. I... I..." She turned away and burst into tears, gasping, the makeup running down her smooth cheeks.