By the time she got to the compound, she could hear the cries of the girls. They were bemoaning their predicament in Spanish. One was demanding to know what had happened to the “new girl.”
Margareta told them to shut up, then went straight to the American’s cell. She gasped when she opened the door and saw the bloody mess that was inside.
The imposter Bond was sitting on the bed with an odd expression on his face. He looked like the naughty boy who had just been caught with his fingers in the cookie jar, and his hands and chest were covered in blood.
The blond girl was lying on the floor. She was wrapped in a redsoaked bedsheet.
“Peredur, what happened?”
“My name is James Bond,” the man said, choking back a sob.
“Fine, James, tell me what happened.”
“She wouldn’t cooperate,” he said. He held up a bloody knife. “I only wanted to scare her with it. She fought me. When I forced her to … you know … she pushed herself against the blade. She stabbed herself. It made me very angry. So I … stabbed her some more.…”
“You damned fool,” Margareta said. “What’s the matter with you?”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Domingo won’t like this. You have to get rid of her. Clean up this place. Take her body to the slaughterhouse and get rid of it. Throw her into the vats. Do you hear me?”
The imposter nodded.
“Get one of the others to help you. Where are they?”
Glyn shrugged. “I suppose they’re still in the annex. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. I’m sorry I disturbed you.”
“Never mind that. Just get her out of here. Then get cleaned up. I think I had better keep my eye on you for the rest of the night. We have to leave very early tomorrow. Come to my room when you’re finished.”
The man stared at the body on the floor.
“Do you hear me?” she demanded.
“Yes,” he muttered.
She walked out and slammed the door closed.
It was after midnight when the knock came.
“It’s open,” Margareta said.
Glyn walked in. He had showered and was dressed in a terry-cloth robe. The earlier persona of little-boy helplessness had disappeared. Now he was all man, handsome, virile, dangerous.…
“Well?” she asked.
“It’s done,” he said, sitting on the sofa. “The place is clean. There is no trace of her.”
“There had better not be. What made you do that? You really are one sick hombre. ”
He shrugged. “I kill. It’s what I do.”
Despite the savagery of his act, Margareta couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement as she gazed upon his magnificent body. His animalistic nature appealed to her and she felt the stirrings of desire. The compulsions that had given rise to her nickname of Mantis Religiosa were not about to dissipate anytime soon.
He was a lot like her, this Union assassin. Sex and murder were intrinsically linked in their psychological makeup. Margareta knew full well that she and Peredur Glyn weren’t … normal.
Margareta loosened the sash around her robe and let it fall open. She stood in front of him, then ran her fingers through his hair.
“That’s not all you do well, Peredur,” she said.
Glyn looked up at her and replied, “My name is James Bond now.”
“Yes, that’s right,” she said. “Mr. Bond.”
A smile played around his lips. He slipped his hands inside of her robe and felt the soft warm flesh. His right hand snaked around her waist and rested on her buttocks. He squeezed a cheek, then pulled her closer to him. He nuzzled his face between her breasts, kissing them, licking them.…
Margareta sighed as she straddled his lap. Men who had the capacity to kill had always excited her. Her first lover had been a Spanish bandit who was notorious for robbing grocery stores and murdering the staff. She had accompanied him on a few of his sprees, but the police had never caught up with her. She had been fourteen years old at the time.
She took the assassin’s chin and raised his mouth toward hers. Their lips met, then she pushed him back on the sofa.
They both needed a relief of tension to prepare for the big day.… She climbed on top of him and took the initiative. She found that the anticipation of the next morning’s violence served to enhance her pleasure.
It was unlike anything she had felt before.
TWENTY - FOUR
BACK TO THE BEGINNING
THE RECEPTION WAS SCHEDULED FOR 10:00 A.M.
Margareta Piel and the assassin left Espada’s estate at 6:30 and drove into Marbella, and then on to La Linea, where Espada and Agustin were waiting for them. Jimmy Powers was already in Gibraltar. Nadir Yassasin was making his way to the Rock by way of Tangier. They would assume the identities of the slain delegates from Washington.
During the journey, Margareta had sight. She wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it. If her suspicions were correct, it could mean that the Union’s plan might end in disaster. On the other hand, it was possible that she could be able to use her newly gained knowledge to her own personal advantage. She had been eager to break away from Espada for a long time. The opportunity to join the Union was a welcome one. This could be her chance to show them her resourcefulness. She decided to play it by ear, see how the morning progressed, and make her move when the time was right.
A Governor’s aide, an attractive brunette who might have been a Miss Gibraltar at one time, met them at the airport. The four Spaniards and the man from Britain piled into a limo and then went to the Convent. Main Street had been closed, blocked off to all traffic, both pedestrian and otherwise. It was 9:45 by the time they stepped through the impressive brick facade that framed the main entrance to what was at one time an old Franciscan convent. The name had stuck.
Security was extremely tight. Officers from the Gibraltar Regiment were everywhere. The four of them were directed to produce their papers, walk through a metal detector, and submit their bags to be searched. The assassin’s passport and documents bore the name “Peter Woodward.” One of the security officers spent a long time examining at the passport. There was a moment when Margareta doubted if any part of the Union’s plan could be pulled off. Finally, the imposter Bond was allowed to go through.
After signing the guest register, they were led up the red-carpeted wooden stairs to the first floor and upper Cloister. Margareta noticed a copy of the original Grant of Arms to Gibraltar by Queen Isabella of Castille in 1502. The first British Governor of Gibraltar later used these arms, which were eventually adopted as the castle and key symbols on the coat of arms of the City of Gibraltar. The colony’s flag, of course, grew from this.
They were led into the ballroom, where a number of people had already gathered.
It was a lovely room, surrounded by a collection of royal portraits of British monarchs commencing with Queen Victoria. Sparkling chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, and large mirrors reflected the illumination. There was a stage at one end with a string quartet playing Mozart; at the other end was a table set up as a bar.
Margareta saw Nadir Yassasin near the bar, standing alone. Should she tell him about her suspicions? Their eyes met briefly, but she then made a point of ignoring him throughout the remainder of the reception.
Jimmy Powers was in an animated conversation with two other men who appeared to be American. She slowly made her way toward them so that she could overhear what they were saying.
“Mr. Bunyon, I’ve been with the State Department for ten years,” one gray-haired man was saying, “and I simply can’t recall your face. Forgive me. I thought I knew everyone in the Bureau of Mediterranean Activity.”