Nick Carter #8, The 13th Spy,
Award Books A139, 1965
An icy spray of Arctic sea stung him in the face and dribbled bitingly down his naked body. He gulped water, choked and shivered, cried out for help against the storm or release from the nightmare. There was a low laugh from somewhere near him and then the bitter deluge engulfed him once again. He tried to run from it, but his body was spreadeagled, upright, against something that bit into his back, and his arms and legs were tied inexorably to unseen posts.
“Once more, Brother Georgi! One more time, and I think he will be with us.” It was a genial voice, and yet there was a thread of ice in it as chilling as the water.