Istanbul Read Online Free Page B

twisted, still firing as the big cruiser smashed toward them. The gunner let go another burst. Nick had to hug the bottom or he would have been torn apart. Lead whispered over his head.
    Nick watched the slugs stitch little red holes in Todhunter's thick body. Still the man fired back, the Colt heavy in his hand now.
    Todhunter made one last agonized effort to fire again. The gunner ripped off another clip and Todhunter's face flew apart like a burst tomato!
    The cruiser sliced through the rowboat. Nick went over the side. In the same motion he tossed the lemon shaped bomb into the after cockpit of the Owens.
    Nick went deep. Deeper! He hoped Mousy was doing the same. Tiny Tim, as the new grenade was called, was having its first field test. As he went deeper and deeper Nick found himself hoping, fervently, that he would be around to make a report on it.
    N3 heard nothing. He
felt
it. A giant hand plunged into the Golden Horn, probing and stirring the greasy waters into lashing fury. Nick was tossed and battered and spun and then the downward pressure came and he was thrust so deep his face rammed mud. Suddenly the cork was drawn and he was pulled upward with a terrible strength, finally hurled out of the water like a leaping fish!
    Nick floated in a daze. His head was splitting, his ears rang and he was half blind.
    He was treading water in the midst of carnage. In a slowly widening wheel of total destruction. Part of a body floated past. No head, but the torso was too husky to be Mousy.
    Nick pushed his way through the flotsam, searching. No Mousy Morgan.
    He couldn't spend forever looking. He had to get the hell out of there. If Mousy was dead, and he probably was, then he had died in the line of duty. There was still the mission. It would be a hell of a lot tougher without Mousy. Nick didn't even know where the station was in Stamboul — no AXE agent was ever told more than he had to know to do his job — and there was the girl Mousy had mentioned. He would have to find her. Nick started to swim in the direction of the jetty. First thing was to get out of the Horn and lose himself!
    "Nick! — help! Help me..."
    Nick swirled in the water, searching. That had been Mousy's voice. But where, damn it? Time was running out. The sun would be popping over the minarets any minute now. And the harbor patrol would be along! "Nick! Over h — here!"
    Nick zeroed in on the sound. "Keep talking," he yelled. "I'm coming."
    He found the little man still clinging to the suitcase. He collared Mousy and started for the jetty, swimming hard.
    Mousy Morgan was beaten and battered and nearly half-dead, but he retained his spirits. "What," he gasped as Nick towed him along, "what in God's name was that? An atom bomb?"
    Nick grunted. "You guessed it, little man. Half a grain of sand of fissionable matter! Tiny Tim! Now shut up and don't lose that suitcase or I'll lose you!"
    "The ball," Mousy said weakly, "sure has opened with a bang!"
    Nick couldn't have agreed more.

Chapter 4
A Place of Skulls
    Nick was feeling the beginnings of exhaustion when he pulled Mousy and the suitcase onto a low stone jetty. Shallow stairs, worn and grooved by centuries, led up to a narrow bricked street where a crowd was beginning to form.
    Nick grabbed the little man by the elbow and hustled him up the stairs. "We've got to get the hell out of here before the cops show. Where's the car?"
    "Couple of streets over. In an alley. A black Opel. It's my own, not an AXE job."
    "It's a car," Nick said grimly. "That's all I care about at the moment. This quay is going to be swarming with
polls
any minute."
    "Inshallah,"
said Mousy. "Allah willing."
    Nick pushed his way through a little knot of silent, staring people. After they had passed the spate of excited chatter began. Turkish, new and old, Greek, Armenian, French! When the cops did arrive they were going to hear some wild stories. And the harbor patrol — they would be going crazy!
    Three minutes later, with Mousy