Agent Counter-Agent by Nick Carter Page B

friends. And friends of the revolution."
    I hesitated. "Yes," I said. I aimed the gun at a light across the room and squinted along its barrel. It was a fine instrument. I slipped it back into its holster.
    "You appear ready," the girl said.
    I held her gaze for a moment. I knew there had been something between us, but couldn't remember her name. "Yes, I'm ready." I felt a sudden urge to get out of there, to get on with the most important thing in my life — the mission these people had prepared me for.
    The man in the business suit spoke now. His voice seemed quite authoritarian. "Then go, Rafael. Go to the Caracas Conference and kill your enemies."
    "Consider it done," I said.

Seven
    "Where in the hell have you been?"
    David Hawk was stomping around the hotel room in a black fury. His gray hair was rumpled, and there were deep lines around his cold blue eyes. I didn't know Americans were capable of such fits of rage.
    "I was with the girl," I said.
    "The girl! For two days? There have been important developments during your untimely vacation. It wouldn't have hurt if you'd been here for a briefing."
    "She seemed too interested too quickly," I said. "I had to find out whether she was being used against us somehow. She asked me to a country villa for a couple of days, and I couldn't reach you before we left. After we got to the villa, I didn't have any way to contact you."
    Hawk narrowed his steely eyes on me, and I was afraid he was seeing right through my disguise. I felt sure he knew I wasn't Nick Carter and he was just playing games with me.
    "Is that the whole story?" he asked acidly.
    He wasn't buying it. I had to improvise as I went along. "Well, if you must know, I got sick. At first I thought the girl had poisoned me, but it was just a bad case of the
turista's
disease. I wouldn't have been any good to you even if I had been able to make contact."
    His eyes were glued to my face as I spoke. Finally they softened slightly. "Good Lord. We're on the brink of the climax of our biggest mission in years, and you decide to get sick. Well, maybe it's my fault. Maybe I've been pushing you too hard."
    "I'm sorry, sir," I said. "But I did have to check the girl out. I'm convinced now that she's above suspicion."
    "Well, I guess that's something, even if it is something negative."
    "Maybe it was a wild goose chase," I said. "Anyway, I'm back on the job now. What are the new developments?"
    Hawk pulled out a long Cuban cigar. He bit off the end and rolled it in his mouth but didn't light it. I had a strong sensation of
déja vu —
Hawk in another setting, doing the same thing. All the premonitions and flashes of impossible half-memories were making me nervous.
    "The Vice-President has gone crazy on us. He says we're overdoing the security bit. He's pulled off some CIA men and sent the extra Secret Service boys home. Said it looked bad to the press to have an army of security people around, as if we don't trust the Venezuelan police."
    "That's too bad," I said. Actually, it was fine. The fewer Americans around to put on my act for, the easier my job would be when I arrived at the conference.
    "Well, there are still a lot of people at the palace with guns in their pockets. I brought N7 over myself when I thought you might be at the bottom of a six-foot hole somewhere."
    For the first time, I realized that part of the reason Hawk had been so angry was that he'd been really worried about me. Or, rather, about Nick Carter. Somehow the realization moved me, and I found myself wondering just what fate Carter had met at the hands of the Vigilantes.
    "N7-that's Clay Vincent?" I asked.
    "Yes. He's put up in a third hotel, Las Américas. I've had him checking into your disappearance." he said sarcastically. "Now he can get onto more important matters. Tonight the Vice-President is attending an unscheduled party that's being given in the gardens of the American Embassy. The Venezuelan President will put in an appearance. Since the