Barragan considered himself a practical man. He was not an opportunistic strategist like his brother-in-law Diego Quintana, or a fanatic like Oshima, or a major talent with rather bad habits when it came to women like Edgar Rheiman. He was a hands-on, take-charge kind of guy who got things done. The world was run by practical men like him.
Which brought the subject back to Rheiman. Oshima had moved from tonguing him to small nips with her lips. Now the scientist was someone guaranteed to distract her. Just as well, because when she started to bite down there the omens were worrying. This was a woman who would not necessarily stop.
"Oshima- san," said Barragan. "There are some matters we must discuss. With regret, but time is short and there are issues to review."
Oshima lifted her head. She looked, he thought, like some animal disturbed momentarily from eating its prey. A plastic surgeon could have minimized her scars. As it was, she wore them like a badge of pride, her long black hair tied back to reveal every detail.
She was a frightening and erotic sight. Her lips were full, the skin of her face and body shiny with sweat and bodily juices. Her teeth white and sharp. Shadows reminded him of blood. Fortunately, it was an illusion. If there had been blood, it would be his. That was not a prospect he liked to contemplate.
There was a moment of hesitation, and then she rose from her end of the bed and sat cross-legged, facing him.
She was completely naked and appeared entirely unselfconscious as she sat there, her sex revealed – indeed displayed – by her posture. Her breasts were firm, the nipples prominent. She was in superb physical condition for her age. She was old enough, he realized, to be a grandmother. Hard to imagine. Had Oshima ever had children? He thought not. But then again, Oshima's past was something of a mystery and not something she talked about.
"Rheiman worries me, Reiko," he said, his manner now less formal as he saw he had her attention. "More to the point, your attitude towards him concerns me. We've less than a week to go and there is much at stake, and there you are, Reiko, still playing games with him. Or are you?"
Oshima's eyes were on him as she replied. He had rarely encountered a woman with more beautiful eyes, and Luis Barragan prided himself on knowing many women.
"Rheiman is a sick man," she said. "He killed in America and he has killed again since he came here. Six women have died in this camp alone."
"Prostitutes brought in for the men," said Barragan. "Of no consequence. They could not be returned anyway."
"At your request, I gave him – lent him – the Irishwoman," said Oshima demurely, casting her eyes downward. "What more could I do, my general?"
Barragan eyed her suspiciously. When Oshima was submissive, she was up to something. She could never let a situation alone. Always there was a subtext, a maneuver, a scheme.
"You can let him play with the damned woman for as long as it lasts," growled Barragan. "I want him content for as long as his services are required, without interference from you."
"And if she dies?" said Oshima softly. "After all, she is mine, my general, and she has a purpose to serve."
To be played with and broken and finally to be dismembered solely as an act of vengeance against this man Fitzduane. Barragan shuddered inwardly. He found it hard to imagine the level of hate this woman felt toward her enemies. Barragan had his opponents killed as any sane man in his position would do, but he did not dwell on the process. Such things were necessary, no more.
And this Irishman. What would he do? By all accounts he was resourceful, yet in truth what could he do? He would have no idea where his wife had been taken. The Devil's Footprint was about as remote a spot as could be imagined and was virtually a sealed environment. So how could the man find out? But if by some miracle he did manage to locate his wife and throw together some operation, he had no chance of penetrating the defenses. Using state-of-the-art stealth helicopters, the American Drug Enforcement Administration had tried and had failed a year earlier, and Tecuno's antihelicopter precautions had been increased since then. So Oshima's optimistic move at picking up her enemy's wife was a distraction from the main event but posed no real threat. Though perhaps it was an indication that Reiko needed to be kept under tighter control.
"If Rheiman strangles her as he has strangled the others, it will be unfortunate," said Barragan, "but there are priorities.
Personally, I don't think he will for some little time. This is not some puta. This is a real Caucasian woman he can talk to, boast to, fuck if he wants to. The woman is helpless. She is a marvelous plaything, and not easy to replace in this part of the world. No, he won't kill her yet. So don't interfere, Reiko, or I may forget what you can do for me."
Oshima said nothing. There was the briefest flash of anger and then she bowed her head submissively. She held the position and then her head bent lower.
Seconds later, Barragan was surprised to find that his most favored appendage seemed to have recovered. He lay back to enjoy and think.
Rheiman was happy and was delivering the goods. Oshima had been pulled back from stirring up the Americans before any serious damage had been caused. Valiente Zarra had been taken out with some finesse. The PRI would get back into power as normal, and Diego Quintana could handle them and President Marinas with both hands tied behind his back.
Most important of all, the base was secure. The plateau defenses could not be breached without his knowing, and his combined defenses in and around the Devil's Footprint could handle anything. Not that the Americans would ever mount such a mission. If the media was right, all PresidentGeorgieFalls's firmness of resolve went into his prick and he had no more for anything else. Clearly, his cojones were not up to the job.
Barragan groaned with pleasure as Oshima brought him to a peak of ecstasy. Visibly, the General's cojones were in better shape.
Oshima raised her head but kept it bowed. Then she reached behind and released her hair. In the shaded room, it was now nearly impossible to read her expression.
The precaution was scarcely necessary. Since she was out of arm's reach, Barragan gave her a slight squeeze with his legs in acknowledgment and fell asleep.
The flaw in Barragan's plans is very simple, reflected Oshima. He and Quintana are motivated by money and see the supergun merely as a deterrent. Leave us alone and we'll leave you alone. All we want is one small country called Tecuno.
But the flaw was the Reiko Oshima had altogether different plans and her group, Yaibo, controlled the inner security perimeter, including that of the supergun itself. An independent Tecuno was neither here nor there compared to the opportunity to inflict some serious damage on the United States of America.
Such a blow would expiate some of the rage that threatened, at times, to engulf her, and the knowledge that it had been carried out by her would establish her once again as a terrorist force to be reckoned with.
She could return to Japan and followers would flow to her. The system was rotten, and ripe for the plucking.
The first projectile to be fired from the supergun was supposed to be a test. It would not be. Instead it would be a small missile of Russian origin – not hard to purchase – targeted right at that part of Washington known colloquially as the Hill.
The warhead was not nuclear. It did not need to be. It was still capable of inflicting casualties on a scale commensurate with Hiroshima.
Japanese politicians, dominated by America for half a century, would make shocked noises and go through all the right motions. But the people of Japan would support her.
They had not forgotten. They would never forget.
Reiko Oshima would never let them forget.
She uncoiled herself. General Luis Barragan snored on. He was, in his way, she reflected, not a bad man. But he paled compared to the only man she had ever really loved, the terrorist known as the Hangman. But her lover was dead, and since that time she had resolved that no one would ever get close to her. Soon Barragan would die too.