The Mark of Cosa Nostra Read online

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  Assuming the identity of a coldblooded Cosa Nostra killer, Nick Carter finds himself on his way to Palermo to infiltrate the Mafia. Using false papers, real bullets, and the aid of an AXE-trained blonde named Tanya, his mission is to stop the flow of heroin to Saigon — a Chicom plot to demoralise American troops in Vietnam as well as to control organised crime in the U.S. But playing the part of a Mafia Don has big drawbacks, like being found out. And when that happens to Nick, he is marked for inescapable death by the macabre Mafia code of vengeance.

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  Nick Carter

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  Nick Carter

  Killmaster

  The Mark of Cosa Nostra

  Dedicated to The Men of the Secret Services of the United States of America

  OCR Mysuli: [email protected]

  One

  For me it started in a small resort just outside the town of Flagstaff, Arizona. AXE has one of its training schools there. There wasn't much activity around the resort itself because this was spring and the action in the surrounding mountains didn't really begin until the first snow. It was an area for skiing, for snow bunnies and warm rum, fireplaces in wood lodges with snowflakes floating against windows, and the smell of toasting marshmallows.

  But this was spring, and the snow people had not yet begun their trek to the mountain town of Flagstaff. The AXE resort was almost a mile high and looked far down to the town.

  I was told to disguise myself as soon as I arrived, according to a photo handed me. I studied the picture in my room while waiting for the man from make-up. The name of the face was Thomas Acasano and I would get to know it well during the next week.

  It was an interesting face. The eyes were set well back in the head. The eyebrows were bushy and like the thick mustache and equally thick head of hair, they were the color of salt and pepper. The nose was Roman, the lips sensuous and full. It was the face of a man who seemed to know the ways of the world and took life on no terms but his own. This was not a face you would find working behind a desk. Nor would you find it smiling at a playful child. You would expect to see it looking down at a freshly killed corpse. It was a cold face that belonged behind the sights of a weapon. I was going to wear that face.

  In the following week I learned about the man that went with the face. It took two days to make me look exactly like him. Our bodies were about the same but some wrinkling had to be done to the backs of my hands and neck, and I had to get used to wearing contact lenses of an almost tan color. Since I wouldn't be involved with anyone who knew intimate details about the man, I was allowed to keep my own personal weapons: Wilhelmina, my stripped-down Luger, in her holster under my left arm; Hugo, my thin stiletto, in his special sheath attached to my left arm, so when I shrugged he would fall from the sheath into my hand ready for use; Pierre, my tiny gas bomb, resting comfortably between my legs like a third testicle, ready to release its super-deadly gas within five seconds after I twisted the two halves and got rid of it. Pierre never gave me much time to get the hell away, but his work was sudden and permanent.

  It seemed that Thomas Acasano was the leader of one finger of the Cosa Nostra complex. Why I had to become a Mafia leader I still didn't know, even after a week of studying the man. I had learned the background of Acasano, a widower, a man who rose from being a bookie runner to his present position of family boss in a New York suburb. He was known to the Cosa Nostra as a man of integrity. He would not rat on a friend. He was of even temperament and often acted as referee to other family squabbles. Rumors around the Mafia were that Acasano would someday achieve greatness as a family leader. But for now, at forty-eight, he was considered too young to assume a great deal of control.

  I brushed up on my Italian and, after a week, I knew as much about Thomas Acasano as AXE knew. But I didn't know where he was right then, and I didn't know why I had become him. I was told all these things would be explained by Hawk during our next meeting.

  I should explain how it is with these AXE training establishments. Sometimes they are used to groom an experienced agent for a coming assignment, but their main function is to train new AXE agents. There are probably a hundred of them scattered all over the world. But they do not remain in one spot for long. The places are constantly changed for obvious reasons. Any kind of permanent establishment other than AXE headquarters in Washington could be discovered and infiltrated by an enemy force.

  The training of new agents is a twenty-four-hour job. They must be on the alert at all times because they never know when someone is going to throw them a curve. It was even the same with experienced agents there to pick up a new assignment; they had to be ready for surprises and attacks. It was a reflex test.

  That was how I met Tanya.

  I had been at the Flagstaff establishment for almost a full week and I had all the available information on Acasano. Since the first two days I had constantly used the Acasano disguise. If anyone knew Nick Carter, they would have a rough time recognizing me behind the get-up. The grounds around my rooms were green and lush. The mesquite seemed to grow everywhere. They were full of little green needles. All the walks were lined with these bushes and some distance behind them stood a forest of pines.

  I had just left my quarters after a final briefing on Thomas Acasano's eating habits. This briefing had been given to me by tape played on my own recorder. I left the door locked and walked along a mesquite-lined path breathing in the crisp mountain air. There was a slight bite to the air; it seemed almost to crackle with crystal clearness. A few clouds looking like fluffy pillows floated across a deep blue sky. Ahead of me I saw a group of twelve girls dressed in shorts and blouses moving in formation to the large green field far to my right. Physical fitness was one of the most important aspects of an agent's training. I watched with a smile as they moved off in a half-trot.

  The disguise was beginning to feel comfortable. I had even grown used to the thick mustache. As I walked I thought about Thomas Acasano and his role in La Cosa Nostra. And I looked forward to the meeting with Hawk and getting my questions answered.

  I felt the movement rather than heard it. An electrical charge zipped across my shoulder blades and I automatically pinpointed where it was coming from. I could hear it now. The mesquite behind me and to my right was stirring. This only took split fractions of a second. Then I heard someone coming up quickly behind me.

  I was ready. I did not pause or break my step. I kept walking casually until whoever it was got close enough for me to do something. Then I moved quickly.

  I jumped to my left and pivoted. The two arms that were going to circle my neck came shooting in front of me. I reached for them, got hold of both slender wrists, then took a step backward and pulled. It was then I noticed the girl connected to the arms.

  When I pulled, she started running to keep up with the force, but she was being pulled faster than her legs would carry her. She started to pitch forward and would have gone down if I hadn't had hold of her wrists.

  I turned completely around, pulling her with me. When I stopped I pushed her arms out and released them. She spun twice while moving down the path, then she stumbled right into the sharp needles of a mesquite bush. She let out a tiny squeal and disappeared behind the bush.

  Everything turned quiet. I could hear a bluejay off in the forest somewhere. A hint of the girl's perfume still lingered around me. I moved toward the bush, frowning. Had she tak
en off to where I couldn't see her? Maybe she was hurt.

  I thought back to what she was wearing. White blouse, dark brown skirt, brown loafers. And what had she looked like? Young, very young, under twenty-one. Long, lustrous brown hair, pert upturned nose, green eyes, not too tall, about five-four, ample curves, very nice legs. Remembering was good practice for agents, it burned the fatty tissue from the brain cells. But where had she gone?

  I stepped over to the bush and started around it.

  "Hyaa!" she shouted, and came at me from the left, arm raised for a karate blow which I guessed was supposed to break my collarbone.

  I waited for her patiently. She was a little thing and her heart really seemed to be in it. When the blow came down I reached out to grab the wrist. That's when she surprised me.

  She stopped the swing in mid-air, twisted at the waist, bent over and shot out her left foot. That loafer caught me right in the stomach. Then she quickly followed with another karate blow that I had to hustle to break. It came at me from the side in a long arc. Maybe she wanted to chop my head off at the neck. I was still recovering from the loafer in the stomach when I saw the blow coming.

  I stepped inside it and got my arms around her and hung on. We turned around twice, then went down in the soft grass at the side of the path. I had her around the waist and was holding her tight. My cheek was pressed against hers. She immediately gave up the super-female-agent attack and reverted to what she knew best: the ordinary female habit of kicking, slapping, and scratching.

  "Let me go, you creep!" she said.

  I held onto her until she calmed down. When she was limp in my arms I moved my cheek far enough from hers to see her face clearly.

  "Want to talk about it?" I asked.

  "Damn you!" she answered.

  I held onto her. "If you admit your little attack wasn't successful, I'll let you go."

  "Drop dead!"

  "All right then. We stay just like this. Actually it isn't too bad for me. You're easy to hold and you smell good too."

  She pushed out her lower lip. "Damn," she said. "I thought I was going to be the one to get the drop on the famous Nick Carter."

  I raised my eyebrows, bushy as they were. "And just how did you know I was Nick Carter?"

  The pouting lip went back in. The tongue flicked out just enough to moisten the lips. A teasing look came into the green eyes. The voice dropped low when she spoke.

  "Take me to your place and I'll tell you," said the young lady.

  "Can you walk? Or would you like me to carry you?"

  "What if I said my ankle hurt?"

  I scooped her up in my arms and carried her back down the path. She was lighter than she looked. That is not to say she looked heavy, but she looked more filled out than she actually was. At first I had thought it might have been because she had foam-rubber help filling out those curves, but our little wrestling match proved to me she neither needed nor had such assistance.

  "You look older than I thought," she said. She had her head on my shoulder and was staring at my face.

  "I'm wearing a disguise."

  "I know that, silly. But I mean besides that."

  I reached the door and told her to hug my neck while I let us in. When we were inside she dropped her feet to the floor, wrapped her arms around my neck and moved her lips along my jaw line until she found my lips. Her tongue darted in and out while she kept grinding her tiny body against me. When she stopped, there was barely enough room for a feather to get between us.

  "Your ankle doesn't hurt at all, does it?" I asked.

  "Make love to me, Nick," she answered. "Please."

  "Your problem is you're too shy and backward. You have to learn to assert yourself. Be bold."

  "Make love to me. Undress me and take me to bed."

  "Thank you, but no," I said. "Even if I have no particular feeling for the ladies I go to bed with, at least I prefer to know who they are. And I really prefer to like them."

  "Don't you like me?" The lower lip was stuck out again.

  "You attack me. You call me a creep. You tell me to drop dead. You say I'm older than you thought. And then you stand there and ask me if I like you. Yes, I like you. But I don't even know you."

  "My name is Tanya. Now make love to me."

  With that she pressed her body closer and kissed me again. Since we had suddenly become old friends, I decided I might as well carry her off to bed.

  When she was on her back with her long eyelashes blinking up at me, looking almost too innocent, she said, "Nick?"

  I was unbuttoning her blouse. "Yes, Tanya."

  "You've made love to a lot of women, haven't you?"

  The blouse was open. She was wearing a white bra, all lacy with a tiny pink ribbon in the center where the two cups joined. "There have been one or two, yes."

  "How many?"

  I frowned. "I never gave it much thought. I don't keep score."

  "I'll bet you can't even remember the faces or names of most of them."

  "That's right. Would you like to leave?"

  She made a little groaning sound. "No. What are you doing to me?"

  I was doing things to her all right. The bra was off and so was the blouse. My lips had found the lovely, plum-colored nipples. She was wearing stockings which I removed carefully, taking the loafers with them. And then the skirt. That was simple.

  Her hands were moving over my chest. She kept digging her heels into the bed while little groans came from her.

  "Please!" she whimpered. "Nick, darling, I don't think I can wait much longer."

  She was wearing cute, powder-blue, lacy bikini panties. I got my thumbs under the waistband. I already began to feel the burning in my loins.

  My thumb was under the waistband and I began to pull the panties down. The edge had already started past the soft, velvet thatch between her legs when I saw something else.

  It was metal. As I pulled the panties down farther I saw that it was round like a gun barrel. It had been lying flat against her skin and when I pulled the panties past it, the thing sprung out aiming straight at me.

  And then it went off like a loud cap pistol. Instinctively I jumped to my feet and looked down at myself. There was no bullet hole anywhere.

  Tanya began to laugh. "If you could have seen your face," she said. Then she sat up in the bed and reached for the phone. She dialed a number, then waited.

  I put my hands on my hips and watched her. Any fire I had felt in my loins was out now.

  Tanya shook her head at me. "I'm a new agent with AXE," she said. "It's lucky my gun was loaded with blanks or you would have been quite dead."

  She turned her attention to the phone. "Yes? This is Tanya. The panty gun has been tested and it works perfectly."

  I pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

  Tanya hung up then immediately dialed again. She waited with her breasts outthrust, tapping her teeth with her fingernail. She wasn't looking at me now. Then she said, "Yes, sir. I have made contact with Mr. Carter."

  Two

  The cigarette was half smoked when Tanya hung up. She reached for her bra and put it around her, fastening it in the back.

  "I'll be working with you on this assignment, Nick," she said as she made some last-minute adjustments to fill the bra cups.

  "Oh?" I said. I felt like I had been used. It wasn't a feeling I had often. And it wasn't a feeling I particularly cared for.

  I said, "I think we have some unfinished business here."

  She blinked at me while she pulled on the blouse and started buttoning it. "Really?"

  "What we had started before your little cannon went bang at me."

  "Oh." She climbed off the bed and started pulling on her stockings. "You're handsome and all that, Nick. But after all, I am only nineteen. And you're… well over thirty as I understand, right? You're really much too old for me. Never trust anyone over thirty and all that. I really prefer younger men." She smiled a quick smile. "No hard feelings?"

  I mash
ed out the cigarette. "No hard feelings, Tanya. But Hawk had better have one hell of a good reason for teaming me up with anyone as young and inexperienced as you."

  She stiffened and stared at me with fire in her eyes. "I think what just happened shows I'm not too inexperienced."

  I thought for a while — she was right.

  I gave her a smile. "O.K., but start having a little respect for your elders."

  At first she just stared at me, not knowing quite how to take it. Then the corners of her mouth worked up into a smile of her own. She gave me a short curtsy.

  "Anything you say, sir."

  "Let's go see Hawk."

  Tanya led me along the path toward the exercise field. The girls I had seen earlier were doing jumping jacks. When we reached the edge of the field we left the path and started across soft grass. I could see Hawk far ahead. He was standing near the exercising girls with his hands shoved into the pockets of a tan overcoat. He turned to watch us coming.

  "Here he is, Mr. Hawk," Tanya said.

  "The disguise looks very good, Carter," Hawk said.

  His leathery face looked strangely at home out here in the mountain wilderness. The eyes studied me closely, then glanced at Tanya, and turned back to where the girls were exercising. He pulled one of his black cigars from a shirt pocket, peeled the cellophane and stuck one end between his teeth. He did not light it.

  "Sir," I said. "Why Thomas Acasano? Why a young girl like Tanya?"

  Hawk kept looking at the girls. "Heroin, Carter. What do you know about it?"

  There had been a brief on it a couple of months ago. Dry facts. Up until then I guess I knew as much, or as little, as anyone else about the stuff. I wondered if Hawk was testing me, trying to find out if I actually read those briefs sent out by headquarters.

  I closed my eyes until all the facts and formulas were right there in my mind. "The chemical breakdown of heroin is C21, H23, NO5," I said. "It is a crystalline, odorless, bitter powder derived from morphine and used in medicine to relieve bronchitis and coughing. But it's habit-forming; it can be sniffed as snow or injected directly into the blood stream as a solution. It's soluble in both water and alcohol. How am I doing?"