"Rafael…"
We were kissing again. She stopped resisting and returned my lass with a sudden, tremendous passion, her body straining urgently against me as my mouth explored hers. When the kiss was over, we were both breathless and hungry for more.
"Oh, God, Rafael," she breathed.
She slipped out of her uniform and let it drop to the floor. I watched as she pulled her panties down over her long, smooth thighs. She went to the cot and stretched out, her body trembling with excitement. I undressed quickly and lay down beside her. My fingers and lips moved over every inch of her hot, quivering flesh.
Suddenly she tried to pull away, but I held her tight. "What am I doing to you?" she cried. I smothered her words, probing deep into her mouth with my tongue. She began to respond again.
I didn't know what she meant, and I didn't care. All I could think about was her ripe, warm body. She moaned with desire as I rolled over on top of her. Her thighs opened for me, and I could feel her fingernails raking my back. I thrust brutally into her, and she cried out with pleasure. Then everything was darkness and urgency and mounting, uncontainable passion.
Six
I was strapped in the chair again, and the room was completely dark. They had given me another injection but this time there were no cajoling voices. There was only the drug working its way into me. Tanya and Kalinin were not even in the room.
They had mentioned something about the "last phase." I'd heard them say it in Russian, and somehow I'd understood, though I had no memory of ever having learned Russian.
As I sat in the chair, an image appeared in the darkness before me. It was the President, and he was giving a political speech. He was just twenty feet away from me, gesturing as he talked. He was saying things that upset me very much. I broke out in a cold sweat. The euphoria gave way to intense anger as the President's words became more and more abusive, louder and louder. His face slowly warped and became hideously distorted. In a minute the face was all that was left of the image. It began expanding, growing larger and uglier as the venom spewed from his twisted lips. The face was so close I thought I could reach out and attack it.
I heard a scream in the room and realized it had come from my own throat. I had reached out savagely for that awful face, trying to tear into the flesh with my bare hands, clawing at it with my fingers.
But I couldn't reach it. The scream had been one of complete frustration and abject despair at not being able to reach the awful face and destroy it. In another minute the voice died away, and there was just silence as the contorted face continued to move in front of me.
Suddenly Tanya's voice came out of the darkness. "This is your enemy. This is the man who stands between your people and freedom. He is a vile, ugly animal, and he feeds on the carcasses of his people. You have always disliked and feared him, but now you are consumed with a desperate, violent loathing. You hate him more than you have ever hated anyone or anything in your life."
I thought my chest was going to explode with the repulsion and hatred I felt for the twisted face. I kept remembering the President's vile words, and I clenched my fists until my nails tore the flesh of my palms.
Finally the image disappeared into the blackness and was replaced by another. This was not familiar to me at first, then I remembered it from the newspaper. It was the American Vice-President. He was speaking in English, but I understood him perfectly. He was explaining that he would work closely with the Venezuelan government, that the United States would offer more economic and military aid to keep the Venezuelan President in power. As he spoke, his face changed. His eyes became more and more evil, and his mouth spewed forth hideous, detestable words.
When the lights finally went on, I was covered with sweat. The technician unstrapped me from the chair and took me back to my room. The drug and the overpowering emotions had completely drained my energy. My legs were so weak that I could hardly walk.
Back in my room, the technician helped me onto the cot and then stared down at me. "Are you all right?" he asked.
"I think so."
"This is all necessary for your mission." He said kindly.
I took a long, deep breath. "Where is Tanya Savitch?"
"She is busy on the project."
"I have to see her."
"I'm afraid that is impossible."
I looked up at him. He was a young Venezuelan, the man called Salgado. His face looked honest. Maybe because of the frankness I saw there, I blurted out a something I hadn't even realized I was thinking.
"Am I really who they say I am? Is all this really necessary for the people's revolution?"
His eyes narrowed on me. "Do you doubt it?" he asked anxiously.
"I… I don't know. I guess not. Sometimes I think I am going crazy."
"You are not insane. In fact, you are quite well now." His voice was soothing.
"How long have I been here in the clinic?" I asked.
He hesitated as if wondering whether he should answer me. "You were brought in by a comrade the night before last."
"And when will I be ready to leave?"
"Today."
I propped myself up weakly on my elbow. "Really?"
"The last phase will be over later today. You will have a few more orientation sessions. The next one will not be very pleasant for you, but it will be over before you know it. It is an absolutely necessary part of your preparation for the job at the conference."
"What is that job?"
"They will tell you later today."
Suddenly the door opened, and Dr. Kalinin walked in. He scowled at the technician. "What is it? Why are you still with señor Chávez?"
"He wanted to talk for a moment." The technician sounded frightened.
"Get back to your work," Kalinin said curtly.
"Yes, of course." Salgado turned and left the room.
I watched Kalinin approach me. I didn't like the idea that the Russians were in charge here and that my own countrymen weren't allowed to speak with me. A Venezuelan should be in control of his own revolution, yet Kalinin had treated Salgado like an inferior.
Kalinin gave me a stiff smile. "I am sorry to take Salgado from you so abruptly, señor Chávez, but he has duties elsewhere. Are you feeling well?"
"Just fine," I answered.
He took my pulse and didn't say anything for a while.
"Very good. You should rest now, and we will come for you after lunch. You have a rigorous session coming up."
"Do I really get to leave this place late today?"
My question took him by surprise. But after a brief pause he answered, "Yes. Tonight you will be ready."
"Good," I said. "I hate confinement."
"So do we all," he said deliberately. "But we must make sacrifices for the good of the revolution. Isn't that so?"
I nodded. Kalinin smiled tightly and left.
I fell asleep for a while. Suddenly I heard my own scream. I sat upright on the cot, soaked with perspiration and shaking all over. I ran a trembling hand over my mouth, staring at the opposite wall. It wasn't like me to be afraid — I knew that much about myself. It must have been the drug they were giving me. I'd had another nightmare.
I'd seen the ugly faces from the dark room and heard the harsh, evil voices. It was all mixed up with images of myself. I was stalking through a dark alley with a Luger in my hand. I turned a corner, and suddenly an enormous, warped face loomed up in front of me. It looked like the President's and yet wasn't his — it was a deformed face hanging suspended in the blackness. I fired the Luger over and over, but the hideous face only laughed at me. The mouth opened, threatening to engulf me. The long, sharp teeth were coming at me. That was when I'd screamed.
After a light lunch I was taken back to the room with the machines — the orientation room, they called it. The technician had warned me that this session would be different, and he hadn't been exaggerating. Tanya met me in the room as the technicians were strapping me into the chair.