Free Hood of Death by Nick Carter

sensations sweep through him in the sweet darkness of the friendly depths. It was unusual. It was rare. He floated in red and dark purple and transformed himself into a living missile of unknown size, tingling and throbbing on a launching pad beneath a secret sea until he pretended that he willed it but knew he was helpless as with a surge of delicious power he was fired into space or from it — it made no difference now — and the booster rockets joyfully burst in a chain of enthusiastic assists.
    When he looked at his watch it was 3:07. They had napped for twenty minutes. He stirred and Jeanyee awoke as he always did — instantly and cat-alert. 'Time?" she asked with a contented sigh. When he told her she said, "I'd better get home. My family is tolerant but..."
    On the way to Chevy Chase Nick convinced himself he mould see Jeanyee again very soon. Thoroughness often paid off. Time enough to double-check Anne and Suzy and the rest. To his surprise she refused to make any date.
    "I've got to go out of town on business," she said. "Call me week after next and I'd love to see you — if you still want to."
    "I'll call you," he said, and he meant it. He knew some lovely girls ... some featured beauty, some intelligence, some passion, and several had combined assets. But Jeanyee Ahling was something else!
    Then there was the question — where was she going on business? Why? With whom? Could it connect to the unexplained deaths or the Baumann Ring?
    He said, "I hope your business trip is to a place away from this hot spell. No wonder the British pay a tropical bonus for Washington duty. I wish you and I could slip off to the Catskills or Asheville or Maine."
    "It would be nice," she replied dreamily. "Perhaps some day. We're very busy right now. We'll be flying mostly. Or in air-conditioned meeting rooms." She was drowsy. The pale gray first light of dawn was easing the blackness when she directed him to stop near an older ten- or twelve-room house. He parked behind a screen of shrubbery. He decided against trying to pump her further — Jerry Deming was making good progress in all departments and it would be senseless to ruin everything by pushing too hard.
    He kissed her for several minutes. She whispered, "It's been great fun, Jerry. Think about whether you'd like me to put you in touch with my cousin. 1 know there's real money in the way he handles oil."
    "I've decided. I want to meet him."
    "Good. Call me week after next."
    And she was gone.
    He enjoyed the drive back to the apartment. You could think when a fresh, still cool day was breaking and the traffic was light. A milkman waved at him when he braked to let him cross and he waved heartily back.
    He considered Ruth and Jeanyee. They were angle-shooters from a long line of promoters. You hustled or you starved. They could want a Jerry Deming because he appeared to be a hard-nosed, experienced type in a business where money poured in if you had any luck at all. Or they could be his first valuable contacts with something both complex and deadly.
    He set the alarm for 11:50 a.m. When he awakened he started the swift Farberware percolator and called Ruth Moto.
    "Hi, Jerry..." She didn't sound ill.
    "Hi. Sorry you felt badly last night. All better now?"
    "Yes. I woke up feeling perfectly grand. I hope I didn't annoy you by leaving, but I might have been sick if I stayed. Certainly poor company."
    "As long as you feel well again everything is fine. Jeanyee and I had a nice time." Oh, man, he thought, you can put that in lights. "How about dinner this evening to make up for your wasted night?"
    "Love it."
    "By the way — Jeanyee tells me she has a cousin in the oil business and I might fit in somehow. I don't want you to feel that I'm putting you on the spot, but — do you know if she and her business connections are solid?"
    "You mean — can you trust Jeanyee's judgment?"
    "Yes, that's it."
    There was a silence. Then she replied, "I think so. She may get you closer to