The Khuf burst into loud laughter and struck Nick on the shoulder.

  “You are no American. I myself have seen the Americans—who do not behave as you do. And you are no soldier. For to come and go alone and to dress entirely in black, without markings, is not the way of the soldier.”

  “I am an agent. In the secret service,” Nick said. “For that reason I do not dress as a soldier.”

  “Hah!” laughed the mountain man scornfully. “I have also seen the secret agents. Fat Russians and Persians who sit in the cafes drinking coffee and whispering lies to each other. You were not born of such a mother. But perhaps it is I, Changra Lal, who will enlist in your service and become rich, fat and useless—except for women.”

  They reached Nick’s tent.

  “I do not promise,” the mountain man said. “But perhaps …”

  He was still chuckling as he slipped into the darkness. “Sleep well, American, whatever you are,” he called.

  Nick went inside, wrapped himself in his sleeping bag and lay grinning in the dark. Spies, he reflected, had been modernized like everything else. But it was still simple and pleasant for Changra Lal to believe in the old fairy tales.

  He slept soundly and was awakened by the sudden coming of the light through his tent flap. The sun exploded over the desert’s edge, throwing that wild, lunar-like landscape into sharp relief. He breakfasted on the same float’s meat stew that had served his stomach the night before, and when the sun was an hour high he supervised a crew of Khuf warriors in dismantling his precious crates—the crates that Hawk had so carefully stashed in this remote cubbyhole of the world. As the little helicopter slowly emerged from its cocoon the Khuf chief danced with excitement. He rushed around like a small boy on his birthday, awarding a kick here and a slap on the back there as his men sweated in the hot sun.

  Finally it was necessary to pause during the heat of the day. This in spite of Nick’s urgings. Changra Lal was adamant.

  “The desert sun has its reward for fools,” he said.

  At last Nick played his only trump.

  “If the helicopter is not assembled by nightfall,” he threatened, “I shall be unable to give you, Changra Lal, the ride as I promised. I must take the Chinese leader this night.”

  The Khuf leader immediately prevailed upon his men to leave the shade of their tents and resume work in the inferno of the desert afternoon. A half hour before sunset the helicopter was completely assembled. The chopper was one of the new sports models made for civilian pilots. It was light, easily assembled from components and easy to fly. But this particular model had been run through the AXE labs. The result was high speed, short range and an extra seat.

  Above the shouting, cheering tribesmen, Nick put the little chopper through its paces. From the passenger’s seat a beaming Changra Lal touched Nick’s arm.

  “It is well that you strike at night or I think the Chinese doctor will be frightened to death,” he shouted.

  Nick grinned and looked out the open sides which had been sacrificed for extra fuel weight.

  “It is a little airy,” he agreed.

  The Khuf leader pointed at the whirling rotor blades.

  “I fear that you will draw much fire from the Chinese. Even bugles would be less alarming to the garrison.”

  Nick’s grin broadened.

  “Watch this.” He reached over and cut the motor. The chopper started to descend and Changra Lal’s face grew noticeably grim.

  “Ten thousand devils, American. You are the maddest man I have ever laid eyes upon!”

  Gradually, watching Nick’s unconcerned face, the Khuf’s face relaxed, too. The mini-copter was settling quite gently groundward under its lazily revolving blades.

  “Auto-rotation,” said Nick. “It was built in as a safety factor in case the engine quits. But it’s also useful for unannounced visits.”

  The tribesmen resumed their cheering as they touched ground.

  Hours later Nick sat smoking in Changra Lal’s tent while the clear desert stars grew brighter. The night again was calm. Damn good thing, too, Nick thought. Those mini-copters aren’t the stablest aircraft in the world.

  “Are you armed?” the Khuf leader asked. Nick showed him the Luger and the stiletto.

  “If I have to do any shooting,” Nick said, “the mission will probably fail.”

  Changra Lal shook his head in wonderment at the man who had such huge resources available yet chose to work with a pistol and a knife. Then he frowned, Nick noticed the frown and asked what was bothering him. The Khuf finally spoke with reluctance.

  “It will be difficult to hold my men after sunup. If your chopper plane is discovered by the Chinese dogs they will begin an immediate sweep in the area. However, if we leave at dawn we can be in the mountains before they find us, even with their airplanes—and then it will be too late to send patrols after us. But if we wait, the airplanes will find us still in the desert. That will be no good, American.”

  “I’ll be back by sunrise,” Nick said. “Or not at all,” he added grimly.

  Moments later Nick was sitting at the controls, and the harsh roar of the chopper engine shattered the desert flight. God it’s noisy, Nick thought. But at the height he intended to fly he knew that the noise would be almost inaudible on the ground. And since he would cut the engines near the lab area there was a pretty even chance that he could get in with reasonable safety. But getting off again would be a different matter.

  Gradually he ran the engine up, lifted a few feet, hovered, then eased the throttle toward full power and began his long climb into the black Asian night. At the altitude he reached there was a great deal of wind although it had been calm on the desert floor. He spent most of the two-hour flight fighting the controls and cursing the fact that with two people in the chopper he would never be able to control it. So when he came back, if he came back, he would have to fire her up and bug on out Any altitude over the telephone wires would do.

  Now Nick could see the lights of the lab complex ahead. For the next few minutes he busied himself carrying out Hawk’s approach instructions. Twenty-five percent power cutback for eight minutes … descend two hundred feet per minute for ten minutes … turn to a 140 degree heading when you observe Administration Building….

  Nick’s steady hands roved over the controls, adjusting here and there while he timed his last descent. He watched the hand of his radium-dialed watch creep around as he made his final turn. Abruptly he switched off the power. The motor whined down to silence. It was eerie, like nothing he had ever experienced, as he came ghosting down out .of the sky. No searchlights switched on to frantically sweep the sky and no gunners loosed-off their weapons. Like a great eagle he skimmed high over the barbed-wire fences, fighting to keep the ship trimmed.

  Below him he made out the experimental rice paddies, looming steadily larger. Hawk, you genius, Nick thought, sitting back in your swivel chair, calculating the angle of descent of a helicopter fifteen thousand miles away. The chopper settled steadily into the swampy ground and rested on its pontoons. Nick sat still for a moment. His landing had torn down part of the canvas awning that protected the rice from the desert sun, but no one had been near enough at this time of night to notice. The guards were posted along the fences, not in the middle of the experiments at this super-secret installation.

  At first Nick moved through wet ground with the caution of a jungle scout. Then he realized that there were no guards anywhere nearby and he strolled casually toward his destination. Whimsically, he considered the idea of whistling a chorus or two of “I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy” but decided there was no point in asking for trouble.

  Leaving the rice paddies, Nick moved swiftly from shadow to shadow. Things were going too well. Ahead he saw Dr. Lin’s flat adobe house. The project director lived in it alone. Nick moved forward swiftly.

  The door wasn’t even locked. His flashlight played its muffled beam around the sparsely furnished rooms. Books were everywhere. On shelves, tables and stacks of them on the floor. He was surprised to see among the Chinese prints on the wall a print of Van Gogh’s “Sunflowers.” Work in the United States, Nick thought, and you’ll probably own the original before too long.

  He moved on. As he passed a door he heard the steady breathing of a man sleeping. He flashed the light quickly through the open doorway. It was the man he had come see.

  With the stealth of death he approached the sleeper. His intention was to muffle Dr. Lin’s cries when he awoke. But he was stopped. A clear calm voice said suddenly in Chinese:

  “If you are going to kill me, Comrade Wu, please be so kind as to turn on the light so that I may see your face. I am prepared. I knew that it would come to this.”

  “Sorry, Doctor Lin, wrong all the way around. I’m not Comrade Wu and I’m afraid you can’t turn on the light,” Nick replied in Chinese.

  There was a pause.

  “Nothing in the Tales equals the astonishment of existence,” the calm voice remarked. “We shall talk in the kitchen, even though the Master has said that the gentleman avoids his own cookhouse. It has no window.”

  Nick heard the rustle of clothes and followed Dr. Lin.

  “You will take tea?” Dr. Lin asked when they were seated in the kitchen.

  “We don’t have much time,” Nick said flatly. Quickly he outlined his. mission. As he talked he studied the doctor’s lined old face. Not unlike an Oriental version of Hawk, Nick thought, chuckling inwardly.

  “And the letter from my daughter,” Dr. Lin inquired politely. “You see that, although naive, I am becoming politically adept. Are governments so much different in the achievement of their ends? I think not.”

  “I think yes and no,” Nick said, handing over the letter. After Dr. Lin had read it, he put a shrewd look on his face, but his ancient glittering eyes were gay.

  “My daughter says that you are a gentleman, sir.”

  “I am honored to be acquainted with your daughter, sir,” Nick said. And let’s knock off the tea ceremony and get the hell out of here, he added inwardly. He looked at his watch. He had allowed a certain amount of time for this but it was already expired. And without Changra Lal and his bandits to guide him through the mountain passes, he might as well turn himself over to guards right now.

  “As I said,” the old man remarked, “this letter is most touching. I would walk barefoot across the Takla Makan to see my daughter safe and happy. But your government is obviously resourceful. This letter could be … “

  He let the sentence trail off.

  “Forged,” Nick said. “You must know the way she writes characters perfecdy. Besides, she asked me to give you this when we met.”

  Nick handed him the signet ring. The doctor regarded it.

  “I am thoroughly convinced. My daughter trusts you … so will I. Besides, it is too late, now, to argue. I assume that I am permitted no baggage?”

  “A minimum, sir,” said Nick.

  “I shall detain you but a moment. There are some papers snd personal things.”

  Five minutes later they stepped out into the desert night. Nick heard the sound of a car coming toward them. Nick flattened himself into the shadows leaving the doctor standing alone.

  The patrol car stopped.

  “Going for a walk, Doctor?”

  “It was my plan to walk to Moscow and reveal our secrets to the revisionist dogs. Failing that, I shall record the temperatures at the rice paddies in the early morning hour and return to bed as is my custom,” the doctor said in a high-pitched, precise voice.

  There was a laugh, the car was put in gear and Nick watched the car drive away.

  “One acquires a taste for duplicity, I fear,” said the doctor. “Shall we proceed?”

  Finally the rice paddies loomed before them. Dr. Lin carried on a rapid-fire whispered comment on the technicalities of rice production as they worked their way through the bog. He buckled Dr. Lin into his seat, drew a deep breath and fired the motor. It coughed, failed and coughed back to life.

  Nick nursed it like a mother until it was revving evenly. Then, down the road, he saw the patrol car hurriedly turn and head back. The noise of the copter was ear splitting, the car’s lights were looming larger by the second. Grimly Nick watched the rpm’s build up. As the spotlight on top of the car swept across the paddies it flicked across the copter, illuminating Nick’s face and traveled on. Then it flicked back again. Nick shoved the throttle forward and felt the ship lift itself out of its bed of muck. A few seconds to hover and test the motor. Then, full throttle and hope for the best.

  They were off the ground now and laboring upwards. The light was full on them.

  “Are those cars equipped with radios?” Nick snapped.

  “I fear they are,” shouted Dr. Lin.

  A rifle cracked and something tore through the windscreen slightly above their heads. Searchlights along the fences burst into life.

  “Hold on, Doc,” Nick said between gritted teeth. The searchlights were playing across the sky. Fifty feet off the ground, Nick sent the chopper, skimming along just above the fences and under the crisscross of the searching fights. Lower, lower, Nick thought. They’re looking for us up in the air. The chopper dropped until it was only ten feet off the ground. The night suddenly split open with machine gun fire but Nick was below it. The first of the high chain-link fences was rushing to meet them and Nick jerked the machine up at the last second. They went roaring by a machine gun tower before the gunners had time to depress their weapons. Now another fence was approaching. Nick could feel the barbed wire scrape the belly of the copter as they barreled over it toward the last barrier.

  “This is not unlike the English steeplechase,” Dr. Lin said. “Only you do the sport with helicopters.”

  “I’m glad you’re keeping your sense of humor, Doc,” Nick laughed. “We’re both going to need it.”

  Ahead Nick saw the deadly winking light of a heavy machine gun coming to bear on them. A searchlight swooped down and held them captive like a moth on a pin. Nick saw the tracers coming up to intersect the beam of light. The gunner had a nice lead and the copter was flying at close to a hundred miles an hour straight into the hail of death. Like hell I am, thought Nick. No guts, no glory.

  Viciously he wrenched the little chopper around and bore down on the gun tower. The machine gun whipped towards them but not fast enough. The gunner strove frantically to find his range. Then Nick hovered directly over him. The gunner couldn’t elevate his weapon to that extreme angle. He waited helplessly for Nick to fly over so that he could tear into the aircraft passing him nt point blank range.

  Wilhelmina, Nick’s Luger, was in his hand. Suddenly he cut back the power and changed pitch on the rotor blades. The mini-copter hovered over the gun crew like an angry bee. Nick reached out the door and the Luger spat angry flashes of light into the night. Nick knew he was cursing their ancestors loudly, but with all the racket he couldn’t hear his own voice. The men below were either killed or diving for the stairs.

  Didn’t think this little bee had any sting, he thought.

  He gave the copter full forward again over the silent gun tower. The searchlights still scanned the sky frantically, but the copter was moving out fast now, skimming along the desert floor. They were ten miles away before Nick eased her back up into the cold night sky and cut back slightly on the power.

  “That was most dramatic,” Dr. Lin observed. “One misses so much of life locked up in a laboratory.”

  Nick smiled. At least the excitement was keeping the good doctor from asking about the whereabouts of his daughter.

  The first red edge of the sun had crept over the horizon when Nick spotted the Khuf camp. Changra Lai hadn’t been kidding about getting back by sunrise. The men were already mounted on their stout little ponies and had removed all traces of the camp. Apparently, Changra Lai was having difficulty restraining his tribesmen until the last moment. But once they sighted the copter, they raised a great cheer as it settled to the ground.

  Changra Lai embraced Nick and turned to Dr. Lin.

  “Is this the Chinese dog? We will cut off his ears for you and send them by post to the Chinese leaders. It will increase the ransom you shall get.”

  Dr. Lin looked slightly disturbed.

  “We had better let Doctor Lin keep his ears,” Nick grinned. “He’ll need them to listen to official speeches in Washington.”

  Chapter IS

  NOTHING EVER CHANGES

  IT WAS as If he had never been to the desert, had never ridden with the tough little mountain men through the passes accompanied by a soft spoken microbiologist. Nick might once again have been playing tag with Dominique St. Martin on the winding French roads. But Dominique was dead. The Paris columnists would have to find another Go-Go Girl. So would Nick.

  The road between Bordeaux and Bayonne runs straight for mile after mile between rows of trees. It is an E-Jag road if there ever was one, and Nick was making the Jag move. Hawk hadn’t wanted Nick mopping up at this time but Nick had insisted.

  “It’s been a tough one so far, Nick. Why not take a rest? Sooner or later Johnny Wu will have to move the girl and then we can get her.”

  “Then again maybe we won’t, and the Chicoms can use her to blackmail Dr. Lin into coming back and we’ll he worse off than when we started. Also, I’ve a personal interest in this.”

  Hawk had looked long at Nick. His Killmaster designation hadn’t been issued for Nick to settle personal grudges. Then Hawk’s seamed old face broke into a smile.

  “If you’re going to go, son, you’d better get cracking. There’s a bad weather front moving in over the Bay of Biscay and if I were Johnny Wu I think I’d try to move the girl under cover of the storm, by boat perhaps.”

  Hawk wasn’t purely indulging Nick. Dr. Lin had been most gracious about the American Government’s being unable to produce his daughter. He, more than anyone else, understood how much more important his work was than his personal feelings; but no one would feel very sure about anything until his daughter had been brought over, too. Secondly, Nick knew the enemy personnel better than any other agent and was the logical choice to handle it.