"More than enough. But why?"
"I must make a contact or two on Tuesday. I'll call you that evening and let you know what to do with him, and how great both our rewards will be. Auf Wiedersehen, Colonel."
"Wiedersehen, Herr Hessling."
Hessling pushed the disconnect button and poured himself another glass of schnapps. He wouldn't be needing the telephone anymore.
He could almost see the Russian's face grow florid and hear the curses being thrown at him over the wall.
Hessling didn't care. He had provided many services for the Russian pig. This, in the end, would be another one. Needless to say, the service would also swell Hessling bank accounts to bursting.
But enough of business, he thought. It was time to contemplate the pleasures that would take place shortly.
Antonio and the woman.
His heart was already palpitating too much. He would have to be careful and not get too excited.
She parked several blocks away and walked down the winding street lined by tall hedges. Over them she could see the slate roofs and soaring gables of huge, stately houses against the dark sky.
It was easy to spot Herr Oskar Hessling's mansion. It was larger and grander than all the others on the street.
With a slightly shaking hand, she pushed the button on the entry buzzer. She disliked doing business in the wee hours of the morning.
"Ja?" said a voice through the speaker grille.
"I am at the gate."
"Ah, yes, Fräulein, come in. The front door is unlocked."
There was a buzz and the gate popped open. She stepped through and closed it behind her.
The house sat well back from the street at the round of a U-shaped, tree-lined drive. It was deathly quiet other than the tapping of her heels on the cobbled walk. The front door opened with a grating sound from the hinges, and she stepped into a long, high-ceilinged hall with huge oak doors leading into well-appointed rooms on either side.
The last door on the right, my dear. It is my study."
The voice came from a small speaker secreted somewhere in the wall above her.
The house was baronial, with dark, wood-paneled walls, rough-hewn ceiling beams, ornately carved balconies, displays of stuffed animals, and brooding tapestries. There were even crossed sabers and a knight's helmet over the fireplace at the end of the hall.
Hessling sat in the special chair that had been designed and reinforced to accommodate his huge bulk. Ranged on the horseshoe desk around him were television screens, computer consoles, and the telephones he used to run his empire.
The room was as gargantuan as its owner, and the walls, floor to ceiling, were lined with leather-bound tomes. She was sure that not a single one of them had ever been opened.
"Guten Morgen, Fräulein."
"Herr Hessling."
"You are even more beautiful than at our last meeting."
Hessling could feel the pressure in his pounding heart as he watched her glide across the room. Her amazing body was draped in an expensive black dress that stylishly revealed richly curved hips, flaring thighs, and jutting breasts.
The woman wasn't a classic beauty, but she was vibrant and eroticism seemed to ooze from her. And even more than her sensuality, Hessling sensed that beneath that calm, cold beauty lay a full-blown predator.
Hessling liked that. It added spice to what he was going to force her to do.
Dismissing the leer in his piglike eyes — and trying not to look at his grossness with her own — the woman set the briefcase on the desk beside him. She flipped the catches and opened the lid. "It's all there… in dollars."
Before she could retreat, he grabbed her arm. Her stomach churned as his thick lips slobbered over the back of her hand.
"You're shaking, my dear."
"Why shouldn't I?" she murmured. "It isn't often I arrange to have someone murdered."
"True. But I think you also shake because you find me repugnant."
This time she met his gaze directly. "Yes. I do," she replied, snatching her arm from his grasp and stepping back.
His massive shoulders shrugged. "No matter. It doesn't bother me. Everyone, my entire life, has found me repugnant. I've learned to feed on it."
"Would you please count the money? I have to get back. Needless to say. I have a long day ahead of me."
"Yes, you do, don't you." He laughed, and it instantly turned into a gasping wheeze. It was several moments before he got his breathing back under control. "The bar is there, against the wall. Fix yourself a drink."
She didn't want to spend a minute more than necessary with him, but a drink would help. She could feel his tiny eyes peeling away her clothing as she poured liquor into a glass.
When she turned back to face him, it was even worse. As his meaty hands extracted the bound bundles of one-hundred-dollar bills from the briefcase, his eyes never left her.
She shivered. She felt as though he were actually raping her with his eyes.
"I have done some checking… made a few inquiries."
"So?"
"I know who you are, Fräulein. I know your connections, and from a few deductions I think I can safely say that you are not doing this entirely on your own initiative."
"You have been paid," she said, trying in vain to keep a nervous quiver out of her voice. "Whatever you know, the money is to buy your silence as well as the deal."
"I think not." He finished stacking the money and gave her his full attention. "I think my silence requires an added payment of sorts."
"How much?"
"Oh, not monetary."
"What, then?" The eyes narrowed until she could hardly see the pupils at all. Her whole body was shaking now.
"You are very beautiful. Fräulein. Your body beneath that clothing is, I'm sure, a work of art. I would like to see you naked."
"You're mad."
"No, not mad… lustful. Under this bulk I am a volcano of seething lust."
"You mean you want me to…"
"Have sex? Yes. But not with me. I cannot, you see. My doctors tell me the excitement would kill me. My heart, you know."
She set the glass down on the bar. Her hands were trembling so hard now that she couldn't hold it.
"What, then…" she stammered.
"I want to watch you make love. I have already arranged for a young man to drop by shortly."
"No!"
"He is Italian, and quite handsome. He is also, I assure you, very clean. I do believe, my dear, that in the end you will enjoy it."
"You are mad, completely mad!" she cried, lurching toward him without fully realizing what she was doing. "I won't do it! You can't make me! You daren't say a word! You are as implicated as I!"
"Ah, that is where you are wrong. It would be your word against mine. And I assure you, my dear. I can provide the authorities with enough information that they would look no further than you or your lover."
Suddenly his left hand shot forward and captured her wrist. His strength was immense, and the speed with which he pulled her toward him astounded her.
His right hand was equally as quick and adept as he gathered the front of her dress in his fingers.
"Stop! Stop it, you pig!"
His hand yanked, and the buttons from the bodice to the hem parted. In almost the same movement, his fingers slid beneath one cup of her bra and began to painfully knead her breast.
"Beautiful, sheer perfection," he wheezed.
"Bastard!" she shrieked, and raked the right side of his face with the claws of her left hand.
Blood spouted from four even red lines in his fat cheek. It gathered on his chin and dripped down to spread a crimson stain on his shirt.
But he didn't howl in pain, nor did he remove his hand from her breast. Instead, he smiled.