Nick Carter #70, Strike Force Terror,
Award Books, 1973
The short man studied my face carefully. “It is unfortunate that you remain stubborn.”
“I wish to know who you are and what organization you work for,” he said briskly, as if it were all business at this point.
“I can’t tell you,” I said
He motioned and one of the guards came over and struck me across the face with the muzzle of his revolver. The blow hit me on the jaw and cheek and knocked me down. I stayed down on one knee, feeling a trickle of blood move down along my cheekbone. I gritted my teeth with the pain. “You bloody barbarian!” Heather said loudly.