Temple of Fear by Nick Carter Page A

Philston and kill him?"
    Matu's eyes burned at him. "I do not care what you do with him. Kill him. Turn him over to our police, take him back to the States. Give him to the British. It is all one to me."
    The front door was open now. A spate of rain drifted in to wet the matting in the hall. The man moved slowly toward the inner room. The pistol glinted dully in his hand.
    "MI5 knows that Philston is in Tokyo," said Matu. "I saw to that. I spoke of Cecil Aubrey a moment ago. He knows. He will know what to do."
    Nick was not particularly pleased. "That means I might be falling all over British agents. CIA, too, if he asks our help officially. Things could get cluttered. I like to work alone as much as possible."
    The man was halfway down the hall now. Carefully, without the betraying
snick,
he eased the safety off the pistol.
    Nick Carter stood up and stretched. He was suddenly bone weary. "All right, Kunizo. We'll leave it at that. I'll try to find Philston. When I leave here I'll be on my own. Just to keep it from getting too fouled up I'm going to forget about this Johnny Chow and the Chinese and the sabotage plot. You handle that angle. I'll concentrate on Philston. When I get him, if I get him, then I'll decide what to do with him. Okay?"
    Matu had also risen. He nodded and his chins trembled. "As you say, Nick. Okay. It is best, I think, to concentrate and narrow it down. But now I must show you something. Tonaka let you see the body at the — the place you were first taken?"
    The man in the hall, standing in the dark, could see the dim silhouettes of the two men in the inner room. They had just risen from the table. One was stretching.
    Nick said: "She did. Gentleman name of Sadanaga. Due to go into the harbor any time now."
    Matu went to a small lacquered cabinet in a corner. He stooped with a grunt, his big belly swaying. "Your memory is as good as ever, Nick. But his name is not important. Not even his death. He is, not the first and he will not be the last. But I am glad you saw bis body. It, and this, will serve to explain just how rough a game is played by Johnny Chow and his Chicoms."
    He put the little Buddha on the table. It stood about a foot high and was of bronze. Matu touched it and the front half swung open on minute hinges. Light glinted on the scores of tiny blades set into the inside of the statue.
    "They call it the Bloody Buddha," said Matu. "An old idea brought up to date. And not really Oriental, you see, because it is a version of the Iron Maiden used in Europe in medieval times. They put the victim in the Buddha and close it on him. There are not, of course, really a thousand knives, but does it matter? He bleeds to death very slowly because the blades are arranged very cunningly and none of them stabs too deeply or touches a vital spot. Not a very pleasant death."
    The door to the room slid open the first inch.
    Nick had the picture. "The Chicoms force the Eta men into this Society of the Bloody Buddha?"
    "Yes." Matu shook his head sadly. "A few of the Etas stand up to them. Not many. Etas,
Burakumin,
are a minority and they do not have many ways of fighting back. The Chicoms use jobs, political pressure, money — but mostly terror. They are very clever. They force the men to join the Society by terror, by threats to their wives and children. Then if the men renege, if they find their manhood again and try to fight back — you see what happens." He pointed to the deadly little Buddha on the table. "So I have turned to the women, and with some success, because the Chicoms have not yet figured out just how to handle the women. I had this model made to show the women, what would happen to
them
if they are caught."
    Nick eased the Colt .45 in his belt, where it was digging into his stomach. "That's your worry, Kunizo. But I see what you mean — the Chicoms are going to black out Tokyo and burn it down and your people, the Eta, will be blamed."
    The door behind them was half open now.
    "The sad