180
+ 110%
NICK CARTER
underwater, as if I was drowning ...
It was daytime. The sun streamed through the
tall windows across the room from my bed, but
there was a deep, rhythmic pounding deep inside
my head. Over and over again, the heavy drum-
ming seemed to throb.
I opened my eyes at length. Slowly and painfully
I sat up in the bed swinging my legs over the edge.
I was alone in the room. Vaguely I remembered
that Charlene had been here last night, but then it
all became a huge jumble.
The drumming continued as I managed to get to
my feet. I stood there swaying for several seconds.
And gradually I began to realize that the drum-
ming sound wasn't inside my head; it was coming
from outside. But far away.
I staggered across the room to where a white
robe was lying over the massage table. I pulled it
on and then went down the corridor and outside on
the porch.
Out here the drums were much louder, and they
seemed to be coming from all directions outside the
town. Out in the jungle. The Indians.
Although I didn't know the exact time, I knew it
was early morning. Ihe sun was just up over the
trees, and the mall was empty of people.
I stepped down off the porch and made my way
down past the fountains in front of the dispensary,
then to Pat's dormitory.
The door was open, and just inside was a counter
behind which were shelves containing sheets and
pillowcases. No one was there.
A set of stairs went up to the second floor, and
beyond the counter was a corridor which ran the
RETREAT FOR DEATH
181



181
length of the building, doors opening from it at
regular intervals. Pat was here someplace, but I
didn't have much time to find her. Before long the
town would be waking up and I would be missed.
The first door opened to a small room contain-
ing four bunks, someone sleeping in each of them.
I crossed the room and bent over the lower bunk
to the right and gently shook the woman awake.
She blinked her eyes and looked up at me in con-
fusion.
"Is it time for prayers?" she asked.
' 'Almost," I said softly. "Which room is Sister
Pat Staley's?"
"Sister Staley? She's upstairs in twenty-two."
' 'Go back to sleep," I said. "You'll be awakened
when it is time for morning prayers. Peace to you."
' 'And to you, Brother," the woman said, and she
rolled over as I went back out into the corridor and
hurried up the stairs.
Pat's room was just across from the stairs and
was exactly the same as the other one. I recognized
her long blond hair immediately and went to the
top bunk where she was sleeping.
She came awake slowly, and when she had final-
ly opened her eyes, she smiled. "Nicky?" she said
sleepily.
"It's me, Pat," I said. "Time to go now."
"Go?" she said. "Is it time for prayers?"
"Yes. They sent me to get you. They want us up
at the church right away."
' 'Right now, Nick? I'm so tired."
"Right now," I said. I threw back the covers and
lifted her off the bunk. She was nude, her robe
lying over the end of the bed.
I helped her pull it on, and then strapped her
182




182
(192 of 228)
+ 110%
sandals on. She was starting to come more awake.
"Are you sure we're supposed to be up at the
church so early?"
I said, leading her to the
"Absolutely sure,"
door.
One of the other women woke up and she turned
to look at us. "Sister Pat?" she asked sleepily.
"Go back to sleep," I said. ' 'You'll be awakened
when it is time for prayers."
The woman sat up. "l know you," she said,
loudly, "I know you!"
We had just run out of time. I yanked open the
door and hauled Pat out into the corridor and
down the stairs.
"Nick, you're hurting me," Pat cried. "What's
happening?"
Her roommate came down the stairs behind us.
She started screaming, and as we stepped outside
we saw someone running down the mall from the
Palace of Pleasure.
I picked Pat up, threw her over my shoulder, and
raced down toward the docks as her roommate
came outside shouting.
"Stop them! Stop them!"
My legs were still weak from the drug, and it was
hard to keep my footing. Several other people were
shouting at us to stop, and Pat was screaming and
crying, pounding at my back with her fists.
At the bottom of the mall, I turned to head
across the dock toward the speedboat, but I lost
my footing and fell down, my face smashing into
the concrete. Pat immediately scrambled away
from me.
I jumped up as one of Seidelman's men raced
across the dock directly at me. I had just enough
RETREAT FOR DEATH
183



183
(193 of 228)
+ 110%
RETREAT FOR DEATH
183
time to sidestep his charge and drive my fist into
his solar plexus.
He doubled over, and as he started to go down,
I hammered both fists into the back of his neck.
Six of Seidelman's goons were on me then, their
fists smashing at my face, neck and chest.
Before I went down I managed to kick one of
them in the groin, but then a fist the size of a side
of beef seemed to materialize out of nowhere. It
hammered me in the face and everything went
dark. I heard Pat scream somewhere off to my
right.
Pat's high-pitched scream seemed to go on and
on, echoing inside of my head. Sometimes the
sound rose and fell like a siren, and other times I
could barely hear it.
I was lying on my back as I finally started to
come around. My wrists and ankles were tied
down, and my entire body felt like it had been hit
by a battering ram.
"He's coming around," a familiar voice said
from overhead, and I opened my eyes.
Seidelman and several of his men were standing
around me. Seidelman bent closer.
"I'm going to ask you a couple of questions,
Carter, and I'm going to want the answers without
hesitation or I will kill you here and now." He
turned around and rolled a cart closer to the table
on which I was lying. We were back in the Palace
of Pleasure, only this time there wasn't going to be
any pleasure.
Seidelman held up two paddles, each connected
to a machine on the cart by thick, coiled wires.
"Do you know what this is?" he asked. "It's a
184




184
(194 of 228)
+ 110%
defribrillation unit used in hospitals the world over
to help heart attack victims. The interesting thing
about this unit is that it not only starts hearts. it
can also stop them. Do you understand what I'm
saying?" He reached out and placed the paddles on
my chest, and I flinched.
"No juice yet," he said grimly. "The first ques-
tion. What is your real name?"
I could feel the sweat pouring off me. These were
not sane, rational people I was dealing with. "Nick
Carter," I said.
"I think I believe that one," Seidelman said.
"Who do you work for?"
"Amalgamated Press . . . " I started to say, when
Seidelman suddenly nodded his head.
A tremendous jolt bit deeply into my chest.
Every muscle in my body contracted, and a mas-
Sive pain shot through my entire being. Suddenly I
could not breathe. A red haze seemed to fill my
eyes, and I could feel myself straining against the
leather straps holding me in place. I was drowning
and unable to come up for air. Someone was saying
something to me, but the pain went on and on, and
I began to slip away.
A second jolt hammered into my body, my
muscles violently convulsing a second time, air
rushing into my lungs; and then I was shaking.
There was a metallic taste in my mouth, and some-
thing was running down the side of my chin.
"He's bitten his tongue," Seidelman said.
"Perhaps now he will talk."
Something with an extremely sharp, unpleasant
odor was held under my nose, causing my head to
clear instantly.
RETREAT FOR DEATH
185




185
(195 of 228)
+ 110%
RETREAT FOR DEATH
185
My heart was racing, and my breath was coming
in short ragged gasps.
"You were dead there for a few seconds, Carter.
I don't expect it was a pleasant experience. Not one
you would care to repeat. "
The room came back into focus as I was finally
able to catch my breath.
"Is the unit recharged and ready?" Seidelman
asked.
"Yes, sir," one of the others said.
Seidelman turned back to me and placed the pad-
dies on my chest once again. My muscles jerked in-
voluntarily, and I could feel my bowels loosening.
"Who do you work for, Carter?"
"Security," I mumbled.
Seidelman leaned a little closer. "What was
that?"
"National Security Service," I said. It was hard
to speak. But I knew my only chance for survival
was to tell him something he would believe.
"Is that the Central Intelligence Agency?"
I shook my head. "No .
. no, it's the Justice
Department. I work for the Attorney General."
"Now we're getting somewhere," Seidelman
said. "Why did you come after the church?"
"Pat was an old friend," I stammered. "She was
worried about her brother."
"You weren't sent on assignment?"
"Not at first,"
I said. "Not until your people
tried to kill me. Then I was told I could pursue it."
"Who knows you came here?" Seidelman asked,
the first hint of worry on his features.
"My control officer," I said. "No one else."
"The Justice Department doesn't know?"
186




186
(196 of 228)
+ 110%
no. I came down here to get Pat. We
were going to use her as evidence to close your Chi-
cago operation. We can't do anything to you down
here."
"Did Captain Arimå work for you?"
"l hired him in Manaus to take me up here."
"How did you know where we were located?"
"I didn't know, exactly," I said. ' 'We just knew
that the church had bought a tract of land down
here someplace. I came to find out where. And
what was going on."
Seidelman seemed to think for a long moment,
and then he pulled the paddles away from my chest,
laid them on the machine, and shoved it aside.
"Well, Brother Carter, you're here, and you're
definitely going to find out what's going on.
You've caused us so much trouble, that we're
going to have to close down our operation here and
leave." He shook his head. "What most angered us
was the way in which you destroyed our equipment
over at the dispensary. It is causing us no end of
trouble. Trouble for which you will pay dearly."
He shook his head again. "In fact, your meddling
here will be the cause of nearly everyone's death. It
will be on your conscience when you rot in hell."
I closed my eyes, my breathing finally coming
more naturally, my heart slowing down.
"Get him ready and then bring him up to the
stadium," Seidelman was saying.
"We've never had a daytime ceremony before,"
one of the other men said.
"It's nearly noon and the tranquilizer is already
starting to wear thin on most of our people. We
either do it now, or we'll lose the entire shooting
match."
RETREAT FOR DEATH
187




187
(197 of 228)
+ 110%
RETREAT FOR DEATH
"Yes, sir," the other said.
187
There was silence for a moment, but then
Seidelman said, "l want him to participate in the
ceremony. But if he tries anything at all, kill him."
"Of course," another man said, and then I could
hear someone leaving.
I lay there for several. minutes until someone
came to my side and undid the straps at my wrists
and ankles. I opened my eyes.
There were four men with me, all of them armed.
When they had my straps undone, they helped me
up off the table and pulled the robe on over my
head and strapped sandals on my feet.
My legs were weak, but I pretended not to be
able to move at all, and they half carried and half
dragged me across the room, down the corridor
and outside to the mall.
There were a lot of people outside, many of them
milling around the dispensary. Most of them
looked confused, as if they didn't know where they
were or what they were supposed to be doing.
Several of Seidelman's men were directing peo-
ple up the wide walkway past the church toward
the sports stadium, and as I watched, people began
streaming that way.
I could still hear the drums out in the jungle
around us, and the high-pitched keening sound was
coming from huge loudspeakers high up on the
walls of the church.
My guards dragged me off the porch, and we
headed up the mall toward the path to the stadium,
falling in line with hundreds of others.
I kept searching the faces of everyone around us
for a sign of Pat and the boy, Domingo, but they
were nowhere in sight.
188




188
+ 110%
NICK CARTER
I
The stadium was more like an open air church.
Tiers of bleachers all faced a steel and glass
podium, behind which, at the end of a wide, paved
path, was a huge stone altar. Ringing the stadium
were powerful lights on tall poles, and around the
altar were several pieces of electronic equipment.
Evidently the sources of the laser beams we had
seen in the sky last night.
The bleachers were already nearly half full when
I was dragged to a seat next to the podium. Pat was
seated on the other side.
"Nick!" she shouted.
The tranquilizer she had been given was already
beginning to wear off. She seemed terrified.
I just smiled at her, and she shook her head in
despair.
A ripple of applause began, and it grew into a
standing ovation.
I looked over toward the path in time to see
Knox, Seidelman, Karsten, and a dozen of their
guards, coming from the church.
One of my guards leaned over toward me. "Very
soon now, Carter, you're going to get what you
came looking for," he said, and he laughed.
As Knox and his retinue came closer, the high-
pitched noise from the speakers on the church
boomed three times and then suddenly fell silent.
A moment later the drums out in the jungle also
fell silent, and the applause stopped.
Out beyond the altar, about two hundred yards
away where the clearing met the dense jungle, Indi-
ans began stepping out into plain view. There were
hundreds of them. They stood there watching us.
Waiting.








FIFTEEN
Knox, ringed by his guards, all of them armed
with M16s, mounted the dais and faced the
bleachers as the last of the people arrived and sat
down.
A deep silence had descended over the stadium,
in part because of Knox's commanding presence,
but also due to the presence of the .lndians. There
had to be several hundred of them out there now.
s 'We have come, my brothers and sisters, at long
last to the day of the Final Reward," Knox began,
his amplified voice boor#ing over the crowd.
The laser beams around the altar flickered on,
shooting high up into the clear blue sky.
"The thing we have all striven for, all these
years, is joyously at hand. Come! Join me!"
People began getting up and working their way
down from the bleachers to stand in a line next to
the podium. As each one of them joined the grow-
ing group, Knox bent over and said something to
them, then kissed them on the forehead.
Music began from hidden speakers, and the laser
beams began flashing faster and faster.
When about fifty people had lined up, they
190
189





190
+ 110%
NICK CARTER
1
began walking slowly out on the wide path toward
the altar.
I started to jump up, but my guard placed the
barrel of a pistol against my temple.
"Don't be so anxious to die, Carter," he said
softly. "Your turn will come soon enough."
I sank back down.
The first group had reached the altar, and they
began climbing up. The first one, an old man,
reached the top, turned toward the church, spread
his hands, and screamed something.
At that moment, a pencil-thin beam of light,
coming from somewhere beneath the altar, pierced
the man's chest with a flash, and he crumpled.
The top of the altar was canted backwards, and
his body slid, then rolled off to the back.
Two of the natives from the edge of the field
raced up to the altar, snatched the body, and then
raced with it back to the jungle.
Meanwhile the second person, this one an old
woman, had stepped up onto the attar, spread her
hands, and died instantly as the laser beam pierced
her heart.
Other people were coming down now from the
bleachers to stand in line for Knox's blessing. Then
they would walk out to the altar where they would
die.
The natives, much bolder now, had come closer,
and as the second body dropped down to the
ground they swooped in, scooped it up, and took it
away.
I turned and looked up toward the bleachers.
Seemingly everyone was getting to their feet and
patiently waiting their turn to come down to the
altar to be killed.
RETREAT FOR DEATH





191
(201 of 228)
+ 110%
RETREAT FOR DEATH
It was madness. Insanity.
191
My guard was prodding my ribs with his pistol.
' 'Now," he said.
I looked at him as four other guards, armed with
automatics, came up and motioned for me to get to
my feet.
"It's your turn now, Carter," one of them said.
I got to my feet. "Only if I can take Sister Staley
with me."
Knox had paused a moment to look down at me.
He smiled beatifically and nodded his head. "Of
course," he said.
I walked over to the podium where two other
guards helped Pat stand, and they brought her over
to me. I kissed her on the cheek. "Do exactly as I
say," I whispered urgently.
Pat looked up at me, and then Knox was bend-
ing down over us.
"Stand on the five-pointed star. Face the church
and it will be easy, Brother and Sister. I love you,"
he said.
He bent farther over and kissed us both on the
forehead.
"Peace be with you, Brother Knox," I said.
"And with you," he replied.
Hand in hand, Pat and I turned, stepped outside
the line, and started down the path toward the
altar.
"Stop them!" someone shouted from behind us.
"Let them go, if they will," Knox's voice
boomed.
Everyone stepped aside for us as we approached
the altar.
' 'What are we doing, Nick?" Pat asked, her voice
slightly slurred.
192





192
+ 110%
NICK CARTER
"Just do what I say, Pat, and we'll save everyone
here," I whispered as we hurried the last few yards
along the path.
A young woman had just started up the steps, a
deeply terrified expression on her face.
"Let us go first, Sister," I called up to her.
She turned, looked down at us, and then came
back down the stairs. She was so frightened, she
was hardly able to walk.
Pat and I stepped around her, mounted the
steps, and at the top we headed for the star that
was etched into the stone.
' 'We can't do this . . . " Pat started to say, but I
shoved her aside, away from the star, as a laser
beam flashed from below. I pulled her with me
down the steeply sloping side.
A roar went up from the crowd behind us, and
Knox's voice was booming over the stadium as we
fell to the soft ground below.
I scrambled up to my feet as two Indians, armed
with machetes, charged. Sidestepping one of them,
I smashed a right hook into the other's face, and he
went down in a heap. Spinning around, I was just
in time to avoid the first Indian, grabbing his arm
as he swung the blade, and breaking it with a sick-
ening snap.
The other Indians, about fifty yards away, stood
motionless watching what was happening.
I scooped up one of the machetes and used it to
pry off a padlock on a small service door at the
base of the altar.
When I had it open, I leaped inside. The altar
was hollow and filled with electronic equipment, a
large, laser excitation tube pointing upwards at an
RETREAT FOR DEATH





193
(203 of 228)
+ 110%
RETREAT FOR DEATH
193
angle to a hole in the altar floor at the center of the
star.
Swinging the machete blade as hard as I could, I
cut through the main power cable to the unit,
sparks flying everywhere.
"Nick!" Pat screamed.
I spun around and leaped out from under the
altar as half a dozen Indians were charging across
the field toward us. Pat stood with her back to the
altar, a machete in her right hand.
One of Seidelman's guards came around the cor-
ner in a dead run, raising his M16 the moment he
saw me.
I swung around, flipping the machete at him
with every ounce of my strength, the blade nearly
burying itself to the hilt in the man's chest.
The instant after he hit the ground, I grabbed his
rifle and turned on the Indians, spraying them with
two quick bursts.
Several of them went down, and the others
turned tail with whoops and shrieks and raced
back to the protection of the jungle.
"Get down," I shouted to Pat as I hurried to the
corner of the altar.
I looked around just as a group of Seidelman's
men, Seidelman in the lead, came charging toward
me.
Stepping out away from the altar, I brought the
M16 up, and on full automatic, cut all of them
down.
Everyone back in the stadium was screaming
now, and even Knox's amplified voice was lost in
the- din.
I raced to where Seidelman and the others had
194




194
+ 110%
NICK CARTER
fallen and grabbed two of their M16s. The people
on the path were staring open-mouthed at me. all
of them rooted to their spots.
"Get out of here," I shouted. "Everyone back to
the church!"
Behind me, the Indians were starting to move in
toward the stadium en masse. Pat came around the
corner of the altar and I tossed her one of the rifles.
"Get these people up to the church before it's
too late," I shouted.
A burst of automatic weapons fire came from
the bleachers, and spun around, dropping into a
crouch.
More people were screaming now, but for a fran-
tic second or two I could not see what was happen-
ing.
Then a second and third burst of gunfire came
from one side of the bleachers, and I could see at
least a dozen people going down.
Knox had jumped down from the dais, and now
surrounded by his guards, Kenneth Atterbury with
them, he was trying to make his way through the
crowd heading toward the church, his men shoot-
ing anyone who tried to oppose them.
I jumped up and raced directly across the field
toward them. I couldn't fire for fear of hitting the
people, and yet they had to be stopped. If they
made it to the church before the rest of us did, they
could close it up, and we would be stuck outside.
The sound of gunfire from behind me brought
me around in time to see Pat shooting at a large
group of the Indians attacking the people out on
the path.
Several of them went down, but then Pat's weap-
on ran out of ammunition, and two of them leaped
RETREAT FOR DEATH




195
(205 of 228)
+ 110%
RETREAT FOR DEATH
at her, their machetes swinging.
195
I dropped down on one knee, brought the M16
up to my shoulder, and leading the Indians, picked
them off one at a time.
Pat raced across the field toward me as more In-
dians poured onto the field hacking into the crowd
with their machetes. People were screaming and
blood was flying everywhere.
At least a dozen more Indians broke away and
came after Pat. One by one, conserving my am-
munition as best I could, I picked them off. Seven
of them fell before the others turned and fled back
into the melee.
As soon as Pat reached me, we turned and raced
up toward the path where Knox and his guards had
gone, but they were nowhere in sight now.
Several of the guards had been trampled in the
mass exodus, and I stopped to retrieve the clips
from their weapons as Pat and I came up to the
path leading to the church.
We stopped there, and I turned back, once again
dropping to one knee, while taking careful aim at
the Indians.
One by one I fired at them, as the last of the
people who had managed to get away, streamed
past me up toward the church.
Several hundred other Indians had come out of
the jungle, and they were dancing around, whoop-
ing and screaming, hacking apart the hundreds of
bodies on the stadium field, totally oblivious to my
firing.
When the last of the congregation had passed us,
Pat and I headed back up the path toward the
church.
The Indians were cannibals, for whom death was
196




196
+ 110%
NICK CARTER
a religious rite. How much of it was part of their
own heritage and custom, and how much of it was
due to Knox's electronic mumbo jumbo, there was
no way of telling at this point. But I didn't think it
would take them very long to come after the rest of
us.
We made it to the church just as the last of the
people were piling inside, and I went immediately
down the corridor and into the main hall. People
were milling around aimlessly, some of them
screaming and crying, others cursing and shouting
as the tranquilizer they had been on for so long
finally began to wear off, the enormity of the death
and destruction around them, overwhelming.
"Get up on the dais. Find the public address
system and calm these people down," I said to
Pat.
"Where are you going?" she cried, clutching my
arm.
"I've got to get the outer doors closed before the
Indians decide to come up here."
Pat nodded uncertainly.
"Keep your rifle with you in case some of
Knox's guards are in here," I said, and I turned
and went back down the wide corridor to the main
doors.
I stood just outside the doors and looked down
across the deserted mall. No one was in sight, and
below on the dock I could see the power boat still
sitting there. I could hear the frenzied whoops and
screams of the rampaging Indians coming from the
stadium, but from where I stood I could not see
them.
Stepping back inside I swung the massive doors
closed, flipping the simple bar latches over. I could
RETREAT FOR DEATH
197




197
(207 of 228)
+ 110%
RETREAT FOR DEATH
197
hear Pat's voice booming over the loudspeakers in
the main hall as I hurried around the wide en-
tryway corridor to the side doors. I locked these
and did the same with the rear doors and the doors
on the opposite side. Only when this was done did
I go back into the hall.
The crowd had calmed down now, many of the
people sitting down, others perched on the edge of
tables as they all listened to Pat up on the dais.
Carter has come to help us get home," she
was saying as I threaded my way through the peo-
ple up to the dais. "But we're going to have to stick
together. We have to help him, but most im-
portantly, we cannot panic."
I jumped up on the dais and Pat handed the mi-
crophone over to me. I held my hand over it for a
moment.
"I've got the doors locked, but if the Indians de-
cide to come up here and break in, we won't be
able to stop them."
"What are we going to do?" she asked.
"Get out of here," I said. I raised the micro-
phohe and held it up to my lips. "My name is Nick
Carter, and I have been sent down here to help you
people get home," my voice boomed over the au-
dience. No one said a thing; the great hall was
deadly silent.
"But I'll need your help. Has anyone seen
Brother Knox?"
"He came in here," a woman near the back
shouted. "l saw him and his assistants."
Everyone looked around.
"He's not here in this hall. Has anyone any idea
where he might be?"
There was no answer.
198





198
+ 110%
NICK CARTER.
"Is there anyone here familiar with this church,
with its construction?"
Still there was no answer.
The Indians weren't going to remain down at the
stadium for much longer. We had two choices.
Either we were going to have to get away from here
somehow, or we were going to have to call for help.
Either way we'd need a delay.
I glanced at the clear plastic chair that Knox's
holographic image had been projected onto, and
an idea suddenly came to mind.
"Is there anyone here who knows electronics?" I
asked.
An older man in the front row had been leaning
against one of the tables. He straightened up. "I
do," he said.
"All right. You and I have some work to do.
Meanwhile, I want a couple of people at each of
the doors to watch for the Indians. If they start up
this way, I want to know immediately."
Several men at the fringes of the crowd broke
away and headed down the four corridors to the
doors.
"Now," I said, "is there anyone here who is
wounded or hurt?"
At least twenty hands went up.
"Have we any nurses or doctors here? If so, I
want those people taken care of and ready to be
moved by nightfall if we have to leave here."
"I'm a nurse," a woman said. "But there are no
supplies here. Someone will have to go to the dis-
pensary for them."
"I'll go," Pat spoke up. She still clutched the
M16.
There was no other way. I nodded. "Take a cou-
RETREAT FOR DEATH
199





199
(209 of 228)
+ 110%
RETREAT FOR DEATH
199
ple of the men with you," I said. "And don't be
very long about it."
She nodded and jumped off the dais, then picked
several men to accompany her. They all headed out
of the main hall.
"The rest of you try to get some rest," I said. I
laid the microphone down and jumped off the dais.
"Paul Fresnel." The older man who had claimed
he knew electronics introduced himself. "What
have you got in mind?"
I pointed up at the plastic chair. "Are you aware
what that chair is?"
Fresnel smiled. "If you tell me it's some kind of
a projector—probably a holograph unit—and that
Knox's image was never real, I'd believe you."
I just looked at him in amazement. "If you knew
that, why did you go along with all this? The sui-
cides and everything."
Fresnel looked down at his feet and shrugged his
shoulders. "Hell, my kids all grew up on me, my
wife died five years ago, and I was all alone." He
looked up. "No one gave a damn about me, don't
you see. Least not until Knox and his crowd came
along. Here I belonged and was loved."
I reached out and patted him on the shoulder.
I said.
' 'You have a lot of friends now, Paul,"
"Let's see if we can't get them out of this mess in
one piece. "
He nodded.
c 'I want the chair and the projectors moved out
into the front corridor directly in front of the main
doors. Can it be done?"
Fresnel whistled. "Don't know off hand," he
said. He brushed past me, climbed up on the dais,
and then inspected the chair and the area around it.
i
200




200
(210 of 228)
1
+ 110%
NICK CARTER
He looked up toward the overhead projector.
"We'd have to rip out some of the building's wiring
to make up cables. And we'd need some tools."
"Can it be done?"
He looked down at me and smiled. "I'll get on it
immediately. But I'll need some help, and like I
say, some tools. "
"Pick anyone you want to help you, and I'll see
if I can find you the tools," I said. "But this is a top
priority project. I want that chair in front of the
door and ready to go as soon as you possibly can
manage it."
"Will do," Fresnel said.
I hurried away from the dais and up the corridor
to the front doors. Four men stood by the half-
opened doors looking out.
"They made it okay down to the dispensary?" I
asked.
One of them looked around and nodded.
"No sign of the Indians?"
"None up here, but we can hear them over at the
stadium."
"Keep a close watch," I said. I turned on my
heel and went back through the main hall and into
the back hall where I punched the button for
Knox's elevator.
It was at the top floor, and it took a minute to
get down to me. I brought my gun up as the doors
opened. There was no one in the car, but there was
blood on the floor.
I got in, and as the car rose, I crouched down,
the M16's safety off, my finger on the trigger. The
woman said she had seen Knox and his men com-
ing into the church. There was a real possibility
they were holed up in the apartment.
RETREAT FOR DEATH
201




201
(211 of 228)
+ 110%
RETREAT FOR DEATH
201
The doors opened, and I leaped out and rolled to
the left. No one was there.
"Knox!" I shouted.
There was no answer. Slowly, covering myself
around each corner, I quickly searched the apart-
ment, but without results.
Back in the living room, the elevator door still
open, I looked around. There was blood on the
floor of the elevator car, but none here on the fur
carpeting. They had gotten on the elevator, but
they hadn't gotten off up here.
Not up here. They had gone down! There had to
be a basement.
I rode the elevator back down to the ground
floor. There was a key slot in a control panel, but
no buttons.
stepped off the elevator, let the doors close,
then punched the call button again. When the
doors reopened, I stepped back on the elevator,
and then immediately got off again as the doors
closed.
I could hear the elevator car going up. The three
men at the back door were watching me, and I
called two of them over.
"Help me pry this door open," I said.
The three of us put our shoulders to it, and slow-
ly the door came open to reveal a dark shaft that
went down another twenty feet, a door at the bot-
tom.
"When Pat Staley gets back from the dispensary,
tell her where I've gone. Knox and his people are
down in the basement," I said.
They nodded and went wide-eyed as I slung the
M16 over my shoulder and leaped through the
open door, grabbing the greasy elevator cables.
202




202
(212 of 228)
202
+ 110%
NICK CARTER
I
1
I slipped the first ten feet before I was able to get
a good grip, but then I was at the bottom.
The door had a release bar, and I slipped it up
and opened the door just a crack.
On the other side was a vast, dimly lit room, the
thick support columns holding up the church floor
above like a concrete forest.
At the far side of the basement there were several
strong lights, and I could see several men loading
something aboard a forklift truck.
Bringing my M16 around, I eased the door open
a little wider, then slipped into the basement. Keep-
ing low and dodging from one support column to
another, I worked my way across to within twenty
feet of where they were working.
It was gold. In standard bars. There were at least
a dozen full pallets of the precious metal and an-
other half a dozen empty ones.
As I watched, the last bars from one of the
pallets were loaded onto the forklift, and then the
driver maneuvered the heavily loaded machine
around a corner and down a wide tunnel.
Gold. They had amassed a fortune down here
and now they were moving it out—which meant
they had a way of getting out of here.
I stepped out from around the column. "Good
afternoon, gentlemen, going somewhere ? "
There were four of them sitting on the gold
pallets, and at the sound of my voice they all spun
around.
At that moment Knox and Atterbury came
around the corner from the tunnel. Both of them
carried rifles.
"Don't try it!" I shouted, but they started to
bring their rifles up. I fired from the hip, at least
RETREAT FOR DEATH
203





203
three hits slamming into Knox's chest, driving him
backwards, and two hitting Atterbury.
The other four men all dove toward their weap-
ons a few feet away as I swung the M16 around. On
full automatic, I laid down a deadly line of fire.
Three of them went down, but the fourth had
reached his rifle as I leaped forward, using my now
empty gun as a club.
His rifle was just coming up as I caught him full
force on the side of his head with the butt of my
own rifle. His skull cracked open, blood spurting
everywhere, and he fell over sideways, his legs jerk-
ing spasmodically for a few seconds, and then he
was still.
Tossing my rifle aside, I grabbed his and raced
around the corner into the tunnel which opened
about a hundred yards away.
At the end I stopped and looked outside. About
a quarter of a mile away, down a long hill, I could
see a small force of Indians hacking at something
in the forklift. They had been waiting for it and had
caught the driver out in the open.
But I now knew how Knox and his men had
planned on getting out of here. And I knew how all
of us could leave.
Farther down the hill, another quarter mile from
the forklift, a Hercules C130 transport aircraft, its
rear cargo doors open, sat on a wide runway.
It was our ticket out of here. If we could get to it.








SIXTEEN
With the Indians out there, getting the people
across the half mile to the aircraft would be im-
possible. We didn't have the weapons to fight them
off, which left only one other alternative. The Indi-
ans would have to be distracted, but long enough
for all of us to leave.
I slung the M16 over my shoulder as I hurried
back down the tunnel to where Knox lay. He was
dead, his eyes open, his lips curled back in a snarl.
He was a large man, and it took me nearly five
minutes to drag his body across the basement to
the open elevator door.
I stayed there for a moment and caught my
breath and then went back and grabbed the other
weapons and brought them to the elevator doors.
Inside the shaft, I shouted up to the guards at the
back doors, and a few seconds later one of them
appeared at the opening above.
"We heard shooting down there," he said.
"Close the elevator door," I shouted up.
"Close the elevator door. I'm going to call the
car down here. Hurry!"
RETREAT FOR DEATH
205



205
Once the Indians discovered that the tunnel door
was open, they would be coming up here. I didn't
want to be caught here totally exposed.
It took several minutes for them to get the door
closed above, and when they did, I hit the elevator
button and the car started down.
I quickly searched through Knox's pockets and
came up with a ring of keys. One of them was un-
doubtedly for the elevator, and the others were
probably for wherever his holographic projector
was located.
There was a whoop across the basement and I
spun around as dozens of Indians emerged from
the tunnel.
They spotted me and headed across in a dead
run.
I grabbed one of the M16s and fired a couple of
short bursts. Several of the Indians went down, and
the others ducked behind the cement columns.
The elevator car arrived, and keeping one eye on
the far side of the basement, I dragged Knox's
body aboard, then shoved the weapons inside.
I fired another burst as I stepped into the
elevator, but the doors wouldn't close. There were
no buttons, only the key slot.
Working as fast as I could, I began trying
Knox's keys one by one. On the fifth try I had the
correct one.
I twisted it over and the elevator door began to
close as several Indians made a desperate run at
me. I fired again from the hip, but then the door
was closed, and I started up with Knox's body and
the weapons.
The rear door guards were waiting for me when
206




206
+ 110%
NICK CARTER
the elevator door opened on the main floor. When
they saw Knox lying there dead, they all backed up
a step.
"Get him off the elevator and find a fresh robe
for me," I snapped, stepping out into the corridor.
They were shaking their heads,
"We're getting out of here as soon as it's dark,
but we need his body. Now do it!" I shouted.
"What do you want us to do with .
. him .
when we're done?" one of them asked.
"Leave him here. I'll send someone for him," I
said. I hurried across the hall and down the cor-
ridor into the main room.
The plastic chair had already been taken off the
dais, and Fresnel was directing some people who
were pulling wiring from the table lighting fixtures.
I went over to him. "How long before you'll be
ready?" I asked.
He looked up, a grin on his face. "A couple of
hours at most," he said. He pointed back at the
dais where a small service door was open at the
base. "We found the equipment room where he sat
in front of the projector pickups. The place was
filled with tools and almost everything else we
needed. "
' 'All right," I said catching my breath. "Just
make sure it's ready and in place by dark. We're
getting out of here then. "
Fresnel nodded.
"When you get a chance, send a couple of your
men into the back corridor. We have Knox's body
there."
"Body?" Fresnel asked.
I nodded. "There's no time to explain now, but
RETREAT FOR DEATH
207




207
I want his body propped up in front of the holo-
graph projector pickup as soon as you're ready."
Fresnel nodded nervously, then went back to his
work. As I turned around, I immediately spotted
Pat across the room where she was helping the
nurse tend to the wounded.
I went over to her and took her aside. "Any
trouble getting the stuff?"
"No," she said. "Where did you go?"
I quickly explained .to her what had happened
and what we were going to try to do. She looked
scared.
"Will it work?" she asked when I was finished.
"I don't know. But it's the only way out of here
as far as I can see," I said. "As soon as possible I
want you to start moving everyone out into the
back hallway. We're going to leave by the rear
doors. "
"There are several hundred people here, Nick,"
Pat said. "Will we be able to get everyone aboard
the plane?"
"We'll have to," 1 said. The plane was one of the
largest transport aircraft built. But whether or not
we could stuff the large number of people we had
into it and still get off the ground was another
question.
All through the remainder of the afternoon,
Fresnel and his people continued to work on the
holograph projectors. Pat and the nurse and a few
other women finished with the wounded, and the
guards at the doors continued to get more and
more edgy.
There had to be hundreds of Indians out there
208





208
+ 110%
NICK CARTER
now, many of them around the Church, but most
of them in the town.
For a couple of hours there had been a lot of
activity below in the basement. The rear door
guards had listened at the elevator door until it
finally became quiet below.
The back corridor gradually filled with people
from the main hall. Knox's body had been dressed
in a fresh robe and was propped in front of the
holographic projector equipment beneath the dais.
Pat and four other women worked their way
through the crowd, coming up an hour later with
an accurate head count and total body weight.
There were four hundred and twenty-seven men
and women, including me and the boy Domingo,
who had been wounded, but would live, totalling
more than seventy thousand pounds. The Hercules
would handle it if the runway was long enough and
the plane in good shape—and if we could get them
all aboard.
A lot of ifs; but I kept telling myself we had no
other choice.
It was nearly seven P.M. and dark outside, when
at long last Fresnel said we were ready for a test.
"I don't know about the power loss in that long
length of makeshift cable," he said. "If it doesn't
work the first time, it'll never work."
I found Pat and told her we were ready.
c 'I'm staying here with Fresnel and two other
men until the last one of your people is out the
back door and on his or her way down to the air-
plane. Don't stop for anything, no matter what
happens. Get them on board immediately."
"Who's going to fly it?" she asked.





209
€ 'I am," I said. There was no one else. And al-
though I had never taken off or landed such a big
aircraft, I had flown a DC3 once, a number of
years ago.
She kissed me on the lips. "l love you, Nich-
olas," she said softly.
"We're going to take a vacation together when
this is over," I said. "Now get everyone ready. We
leave in ten minutes."
The guards at the side doors had been pulled
away, and I went to the front door where the
plastic chair had been set up. Overhead, strung on
the ceiling, was the upper projector. The lower unit
was on the floor beneath the chair, and the
horizontal plane projector was propped on a table
to the left. Cables snaked everywhere.
"What's going on outside," I asked one of the
guards at the door.
"They're burning the town," he said. "There's
hundreds of them out there."
"Let's give them something to celebrate then," I
said. "As soon as Knox's projection comes to life,
I want you to open the doors, then get back with
the others. As soon as it's clear at the rear of the
building, get everyone down to the airplane."
They all looked at me nervously for several sec-
onds, but then they nodded.
Fresnel and I went back to the equipment room
beneath the dais. Knox's body was seated stiffly in
the chair, his eyes still open, his lips still curled
back into a death mask grin.
"He offered us hope for a better world," Fresnel
said looking at him. "The Final Reward, it was
called. A final reward for a life of toil."
210





210
+ 110%
NICK CARTER
' 'He was a madman," said softly.
Fresnel looked up at me. "We all were, Mr.
Carter, we all were." He flipped several switches,
and the equipment came to life, casting an eerie
blue-tinged light on the corpse.
"It's now .or never," Fresnel said. He hit the
main power switch, the blue glow intensifying to a
bright, hard blue light.
Someone came running from the front hall.
"He's there . . . I mean it's working."
"Right," I said. "Get back with the others now,
Paul. I'll come along as soon as the last one is out."
Fresnel clapped me on the shoulder, then left. I
picked up the microphone and stepped to the ser-
vice door. From there I could hear the natives
screaming from the open front doors.
The remainder of the guards burst from the cor-
ridor, raced across the main hall, and were gone,
leaving me alone.
"Greetings my children, this is the voice of
God!" I said in Portuguese. I could hear my voice
booming throughout the church, and when I
stopped I could no longer hear the natives outside.
They were all quiet. They understood.
"Gather, my children, gather at my feet and I
will tell you the word of all the gods. Gather, my
children, and hear my words."
I held the microphone in one hand, the M16 in
the other, Knox's corpse behind me as I spoke. I
had no way of knowing what was going on outside,
and I would have to remain here until someone
came back for me with the news that everyone had
gotten out of the building. In the meantime, I was
going to have to hold the Indians in front of the
RETREAT FOR DEATH
211






211
(221 of 228)
+ 110%
RETREAT FOR DEATH
projection of Knox's body.
211
"Come my children," my voice boomed. "Drop
your tools of war, and hear my message."
Except for my own greatly amplified voice, I
could hear nothing else. I spoke on and on, exhort-
ing the Indians to gather at the front of the church,
to look at Knox's image, to listen to his words.
At one point I invited the bravest of the Indians
to come forward and touch my body. And then I
stopped talking until from somewhere in the front
hallway, I heard a man scream.
One of the Indians had evidently done what I
had asked and had come to try and touch the body
that wasn't there.
"I am God, and you will listen!" I shouted.
Pat suddenly appeared around the corner of the
dais. "They're on their way," she said.
I nodded. "Listen to my words inside of you.
Gaze now on my face and learn the word of God,"
I roared.
I laid the microphone down, jumped out of the
equipment room, and both of us hurried across the
main hall, down the corridor and out the back
door.
The night was hot and very muggy as we ran
down the path that led into the jungle.
By the time we made it down to the plane, the
last of the people were climbing aboard.
"Make sure everyone is in, and then come for-
ward; I'll need your help," I said.
Pat helped the people climb aboard as I worked
my way forward to the cockpit. They were all
crammed into the aircraft, shoulder to shoulder,
with no room to move let alone sit or lie down.
212




212
+ 110%
NICK CARTER
J climbed into the left-hand seat, studied the in-
strument panel for several long seconds, and then
flipped on the master switch and the panel lights.
The instrument gyros came to life, and the fuel
gauges on a back panei where the flight engineer
would normally sit, came up to full.
One by one, I kicked the engine preheaters, fuel
pumps, and then the starters, each engine slowly
grinding to life. Oil and hydraulic pressures all
came up to the green marks as I steadied the
RPMS to one thousand.
Pat came screaming into the cockpit.
"Everyone's aboard, but the Indians are coming
down from the church!"
' 'Strap yourself in," I snapped, and I looked
over my shoulder at the engineer's panel, finally
finding the cargo bay door control. I hit the switch,
and I could hear the dull vibrations of the cargo
doors closing. A minute later the indicator light
winked green above the CARGO DOOR CLOSE posi-
tion.
Flipping on the landing lights, I released the
parking brake, advanced the throttles and pro-
peller pitch controls, and we began to move.
The plane had been lined up on the end of the
runway, and hesitating only a moment to make
sure all the gauges were indicating the proper read-
ings, I shoved the throttles and pitch controls all
the way forward, and we were rolling. We moved
slowly at first as we bumped down the runway, but
then we began to gather speed. I added fifteen
degrees of flaps three quarters of the way down the
runway, the nose coming up slightly.
And then we were rotating, angling back almost
RETREAT FOR DEATH
213




RETREAT FOR DEATH
213
on our tail. The ground suddenly dropped away
beneath us, and the dark jungle stretched out for
hundreds of miles in every direction, as we pon-
derously fought for altitude.
Landing was going to be a problem, but one that
could be solved with a sharp air controller who
could talk me down. It would probably be to the
east somewhere, in Peru, a friendly country.
But we had made it. Now it would only be a mat-
ter of the Justice Department mopping up the final
details of the church's operation in Chicago, and
for the people back in the cargo hold to somehow
go back to their normal lives.
Others would help with that, though.
As soon as I got home, however, I was going to
make good my promise to Pat, and take her on a
vacation. A very long vacation.