Free A Korean Tiger by Nick Carter Page A

spoke softly:
"Feldwebel?"
    "Das Wasser ist kalt."
The voice was rough, deep, a gravely basso.
    Nick went a bit closer. "
Ja
. The water
is
cold. The woman told you what I want?"
    He was close enough to the shadow now to see it shrug. It was short and squat. It said, "You wish to enter the hotel without being seen,
Herr.
And I suppose you wish to get out the same way,
nein?
It can be arranged — for money."
    "How much money?"
    A moment of hesitation. Nick took another step forward and stopped abruptly. That breath — a powerful blend of tobacco, onions, alcohol and just plain halitosis! The man's friends, if he had any, had just never told him.
    "Five hundred marks,
Herr?
And I must know, you must tell me, something of what you plan to do? I must protect myself, you understand? The
polizei...
"
    "A thousand marks," Nick told him sternly. "And you will ask no questions. None! You will answer questions. The less you know the better for you. If you do your part well and keep your mouth shut you will not get in trouble with the police. When we part you will forget that you ever saw me or that the woman ever called you. You will forget it instantly and forever! Do you understand?"
    "
Ja
,
Herr.
What is it you wish? I mean other than entrance to the hotel? That part is easy enough and..."
    "I know," Killmaster said brusquely. "I would not need you for that! Here is what I want." And he leaned closer to the man, trying his best to avoid that terrible breath.
    A quarter of an hour later Nick Carter left the freight elevator at the seventh floor of the Dom. He took the fire stairs up two flights to the ninth floor. The corridors were empty, thickly carpeted underfoot and dimly lit. He went up the fire stairs like a ghost. His workman's clothes were in a locker in the basement. He now wore a green porter's uniform with shiny silver buttons. He had changed in a laundry room while his guide and mentor kept watch outside, thus giving Nick both a respite from the breath and a chance to transfer his weapons without arousing suspicion. That the porter was a rogue he had no doubt — but murder was something else again.
    Nick cracked the door on the ninth floor and peered cautiously into the long corridor, a faint grin on his rough-stubbled face. He had neither the time nor the inclination to explain to the porter about AXE executions. To him the killing of Raymond Lee Bennett would be plain murder.
    Nick stepped quietly out into the corridor. So be it. After the fact, if he brought it off, it would be too late. The man dare not talk then.
    Room 946 was at the far end of the corridor, near the front of the hotel. Nick walked the distance rapidly, noiselessly, his fingers probing the pocket of the green monkey jacket for the passkey. That in itself was worth the thousand marks. He might have jiggled the lock with his pick, but it would have taken time, made noise and kept him standing in the hall too long.
    Here it was. A white door with the bronze numerals 946. The faintest of smiles touched his firm mouth as he saw the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door. It might, Killmaster thought sardonically, just be possible that he could kill Bennett without disturbing him. If he did it fast enough. While the man slept.
    He glanced back along the corridor. It shimmered in the subdued night lighting, a dim tunnel of silence. Carefully, very slowly, Nick slipped the passkey into the lock. If Raymond Lee Bennett was indeed in the room — and Nick had no way of knowing for sure — then this was the most dangerous part of the operation. Bennett might be a nut, but he was no fool. He enjoyed playing espionage games and he probably knew a lot of tricks, if only from his reading. He might be sitting in the dark, waiting with a .38 Magnum. He might have rigged a gun trap to the door, or scattered bottles and cans around as noisemakers — anything. Nick Carter told himself that he would hate to get it from a crazy amateur like Bennett. He also prepared his