Free The Istanbul Decision by Nick Carter

can still take him."
    "Yes, sir."
    "The man has to be taken, N3. Has to, no matter what the cost."
    "I understand that, sir."
    Before Hawk rang off, the two men worked out some of the logistics Carter would need over the next few days. Hawk provided a list of AXE operatives in cities along the train's route and the number Carter could call in Washington should he run into trouble. They agreed that Vienna was a good choice for boarding the train as it was only half an hour by jet from Berlin and would allow Carter a few hours' rest at Kliest's before going on.
    Then, when all the business had been conducted and mere was nothing left to say. Hawk lingered a moment on his end of the line. "Take care of yourself," he said finally.
    Carter sensed he meant it. "I will. Thank you, sir."
    Kliest, who had been sitting on the edge of his armchair listening to Carter's end of the conversation, abruptly stood and went into the kitchen area. When he returned he was carrying a tray piled high with German pancakes, sausages, and a liter stein of rich beer. "My wife made these up before she went to work. They've been in the oven warming. I'll make up the bed while you're eating."
* * *
    Carter ate, made his travel arrangements, and slept. In a few hours Kliest woke him and drove him to the airport. As he was boarding his plane, Kliest gave his hand a firm shake and told him it had been a pleasure working with him. Between Kliest's sendoff and Hawk's good-bye over the phone, Carter wondered if anyone really expected him to come back from this assignment alive.
    In Vienna he deplaned, stored his luggage, and caught a cab for the Sacher Hotel. Leonard Southby was at the bar hunched over a glass of scotch. Sitting next to him was a small man wearing large glasses.
    "Mr. Welter," Southby said, introducing him after Carter sat down, "from our public relations department." Carter noticed the glasses achieved a friendly effect by being a shade too small to be considered comical.
    Welter nodded brusquely. The glasses were friendly; Welter definitely was not.
    "I'm not happy. Mr. Carter," Southby went on, motioning to the bartender to bring Carter a drink and freshen his own. "You're better than the combined police forces of France, Germany, Austria, Hungary, Yugoslavia, and Bulgaria because you're going to do the impossible. You're going to get my train back."
    "Sometimes one man can do what many can't," said Carter. "As for getting your train back, let's put it this way. You and I both have an interest in seeing Nikolai Kobelev removed from the picture."
    "Did you hear that, Sidney?" Southby asked in a loud voice, turning to Welter. "We have a mutual interest. Mr. Carter and I. A ten-million-dollar train at stake, not to mention the lives of a hundred and fifty fare-paying patrons for whom I am legally responsible, and Mr. Carter wants to talk about our mutual interest. Go away, Mr. Carter," he said angrily, turning back around. "I'm not interested in a man whose interests don't coincide exactly with mine. I don't trust a government stooge. You people are always looking to protect your precious state secrets. I buy and sell your kind all the time. I want a man on my payroll who will do exactly as I tell him."
    Carter calmly swished the ice in his drink and laid the swizzle stick on the bar. "I'm afraid you 're stuck with me."
    "I am not stuck, sir! I may be tired, overwrought, even half-drunk, but I am not stuck. We have ways of dealing with this kind of terrorism in Europe — men trained by the terrorists themselves who are enlightened enough to realize money is more important than ideals. I can afford to buy several of these men and have the OE back on schedule before she reaches Belgrade."
    Carter took a close look at Southby over the rim of his glass. The man was obviously on the brink of nervous exhaustion. "Apparently they didn't tell you who we're dealing with," he said, putting his drink back on the bar. "Nikolai Kobelev is no ordinary