“Sooner or later you are going to tell me what I want to know,” Gorodin said. “The smarter you are, the sooner you will talk.” As he said this the Russian reached down and grasped Rona’s blouse, inserting his thick fingers between the buttons. He gave a vicious yank and the blouse tore away, leaving him with a handful of flimsy material.
Rona’s breasts fell into view, the tops lightly tanned, the rounded bottoms white from being hidden in her bikini top.
Gorodin turned to Boris at the door. “What do you think of those, my boy? Not so big as some, maybe, but firm and full.”
Boris nodded shortly, but his eyes revealed his disapproval of Gorodin’s actions.
“Good to the touch, too,” Gorodin said, running his big hands over Rona’s breasts. “What a pity we do not have time for some pleasure before the questioning begins. Maybe there will be time for that later, eh, if the lady gives the right answers.”
I could see the muscles move in the big man’s arms as he began to squeeze the girls breasts.
“We will begin again,” he said. “You will tell me the names of everyone you know connected with AXE.”
Rona gasped as Gorodin squeezed her breasts like ripe fruit in his massive hands. “I don’t know any other AXE people!” she cried.
Gorodin, straightened up, leaving red finger marks where he had gripped Rona. He shook his head sadly and turned to me. “Your lady friend is going to be stubborn too. It seems I am going to have to hurt one of you, and I think I would most enjoy hurting her.” He ran his hands down over Rona’s bare stomach and began to undo the buttons of her slacks.
Right here is where the movie hero would say, “Hold on, don’t touch the lady! I’ll tell you want you want to know.” It doesn’t work that way. Sure, I was fond of Rona, and what Gorodin was going to do to her would leave scars on me too, but she was a professional, and you don’t get into the espionage business, whether it’s Killmaster for AXE or some two-bit spying for the Atomic Energy Commission unless you’re prepared to take the risk. And from a practical standpoint, the minutes it would take Gorodin to destroy Rona Volstedt only to learn she had nothing to tell him would give me that much more time to figure a way out so that I might still complete the assignment. In the end, the most important consideration must be the mission. So I ground my teeth together and tried to concentrate on a plan of escape.
Knuckles banged on the cabin door.
Gorodin swore in Russian as the door opened and a pale crewman stood there at stiff attention, trying not to look at the half-naked blonde on the bunk
“A radio message for you, sir,” the crewman rattled.
“Not now, you idiot,” Gorodin roared. “Get out of here!”
“B-but, sir, it is General Zhizov. Urgent.”
With a grunt of annoyance Gorodin turned away from Rona.
“Very well. Tell the general I will be there.”
The crewman saluted smartly and disappeared.
Gorodin paused at the table where his young aide sat. “Boris, keep the gun on these people at all times. Watch out for Carter.”
“Yes, sir,” Boris answered, keeping Wilnelmina un-waveringly pointed at me.
Gorodin went out and slammed the door behind him. Working behind my back I tried to hitch up the shirt so Boris would get a look at the trick belt. At the movement I could see Boris’s finger tighten on the trigger.
“You had better lie still,” he said. “Do not doubt that I will shoot you if I have to.”
He meant it. I quit moving.
A stifled sob came from Rona. I glanced quickly across at her. She hadn’t seemed like a crier. Boris looked too. When his eyes fell on her bare breasts he looked away.
Rona sobbed again, made a series of pitiful, whimpering sounds, took a shuddering breath. “Boris,” she said tearfully, “are you going to let him do this to me?”
Then I understood. Rona was more of a pro than I had imagined. She had caught the earlier flash of compassion in the young man’s eyes, and now she was playing him with it.
“I cannot help you,” Boris said. “You must tell the colonel what he wants to know.”
“I can’t,” Rona said. “I don’t know anything. Hell do horrible things to me. You aren’t like him, Boris. I can see there’s humanity in you. Please help me.”
She was good, really convincing, and she was only half-acting.
Boris chewed at his lip but shook his head. “I can do nothing to help you.”
Precious seconds ticked away. I had a certain physical freedom, enough for a desperate gamble — if Rona could create a diversion. I caught her attention, then pointedly eyed a pack of cigarettes resting on the card table in front of Boris.
She smiled wanly at him and released a long sigh. “I understand, Boris,” she said. “You’re working for what you believe in, just as we are. Whatever they do to me, I know it would be different if you were in charge.”
The boy looked at her with something very close to gratitude.
“I won’t ask you to betray your beliefs,” Rona went on. “But could you just do one small favor?”
“If I can,” Boris answered in a barely audible voice.
“Before that beast Gorodin begins his torture I’d like a cigarette.” She managed another feeble smile.
“It’s a small pleasure, but it could be my last. Will you give me one?”
Boris hesitated, then nodded. “Of course.” He picked up the pack in front of him. “These are Russian. You don’t mind?”
She shook her head. “A cigarette is a cigarette when your nerves are screaming for relief.”
“It will be awkward,” he said. “I cannot release your hands.”
“Please just light it and put it between my lips,” she answered.
It was a very long shot. I would have only a couple of seconds. I tensed, coiled myself.
Boris lit the cigarette, stood and put the gun into his waistband. He crossed the cabin and put the cigarette between Rona’s lips. As he moved, I eased my feet off the bunk to the deck and came slowly to a sitting position.
I was preparing to launch myself at him when he turned. I had hoped that he would hover above Rona, lifting the cigarette from her lips occasionally. But apparently he was about to go back to his seat.
And now he saw me from the corner of his eye. He turned around sharply to face me as he grabbed for the Luger. But then I got an unexpected break. As Boris swung around to face me and turned his back on. Rona, she snapped her knees up almost under her chin, aimed her feet at the target, and shot them forward in a mighty shove. It was done with marvelous dexterity and lightning speed.
Boris had the gun in hand but had no time to bring it up before he was catapulted toward me, hurled off balance with such force that he sprawled head first at my feet, the Luger clattering to the deck. It took only a split second to raise my taped feet, now a double leather-soled club, and smash them down on his skull. The first blow was at least stunning, but the next three in rapid succession executed by leaping up and mashing down with the full measure of my weight, consigned him to oblivion.
“Poor Boris,” said Rona after she had leap-frogged over and was gazing down at him with a queasy-gut expression, “I was almost beginning to like him.”
Ten
I had no time to express my thanks and admiration for Rona’s surprising agility and quick-thinking performance at the moment of truth. I was too busy looking around the cabin for the sharp edge of something to cut us loose. But at a glance there didn’t seem to be anything sharper than the blunt comer of a mirrorless bureau.
Then I spotted the fluorescent light fixture above the bureau. It was out of my reach, of course, but the tube would break easily enough if I could hit it with something. I could forget my Luger, resting now on the deck nearby. With my hands wrapped behind me I’m not a very good shot; besides, a shot would make too much noise. For the same reason, I couldn’t throw the gun at the light.