She was not a lady to waste words. Her smallhand holding the .45 rock-steady on my belly, she said, "Your name, please?" I told her I was Richard Winston. That was the name on my papers. I gave her the Peace Corps con. She smiled like Mona Lisa and her grip tightened on the gnurled but of the big .45. "Let us not begin our relationship with lies, Mr. Carter. We know you are Nick Carter and that you hold the rank of Killmaster in the AXE organization."
1969.