Chapter 8

Cathy Hummer made a radiant bride when she became Mrs. Alexander Knight. She could hardly believe her dream had come true. When Alex had asked to marry him, right out of the blue, she had stared at him disbelievingly. She quickly recovered, however, and accepted with all her spontaneous sincerity. He had then suggested an immediate wedding to which she had agreed. It had been a terrific rush, but Cathy felt terribly happy, though a bit afraid-she really didn't know much about her husband, except that she loved him deeply.

Now they were on a plane heading for Interlaken where they were going to spend a most unusual honeymoon trying out the slopes of the Swiss Alps. Cathy was looking forward to being alone with Alex and enjoying herself after more than a year of hard work in Vietnam. So was Alex, although perhaps not with quite the same straight-forward pleasure as his new wife.

His reason for getting married had been varied. First of all, in his position as the head of a very important department, he needed a wife. Not that his job was conventional, and neither would Cathy have to play the conventional hostess to her husband's business collogues. But it filled in a blank in his background. What was more to the point, it stilled those tongues that wagged about the goings on at his house in Saigon.

There had been some wild parties held there on several occasions, and rumors had spread. Mayor Carter in particular had been heard to comment on "parties" held at Knight's house. Which was not strictly true. Brian, of course, often invited his homosexual friends, but there were always women present. Alex would have been bored with a party consisting entirely of his own sex. Nevertheless Carter was trying hard to fan the flames of scandal. Alex's marriage to Cathy would keep him quiet-for a while at least.

They had only been in Interlaken two days when Alex received a report, carefully worded, from Michael Shelby. It was to the effect that his newspaper had gotten hold of a story from very reliable state of intelligence in Vietnam. The same day he received another report, this one brought to him by special carrier from the offices of V.I.S....

If Michael's information represented bad news, the report he had just received was much worse. Alex felt quite disturbed when he learned that Brian Slattery had been arrested in Saigon by their good friend Major Frank Carter. Apparently, Brian had been caught snooping around documents marked "top secret" and destined to the Major. Brian, it appeared, had been unable to offer a reasonable explanation for his action.

Alex immediately sent a message to Saigon with the same courier. He gave instructions for Brian to be flown to Very in Switzerland as soon as this could be "arranged" by his men. He and Cathy were leaving Interlaken for Vavey in two days time.

Alex also asked for more information from Michael about the newspaper story....

He then sat down and started drinking. He could think better that way. Cathy he sent out on shopping expedition. She didn't want to leave him alone, but knowing that a courier had just arrived from Saigon, she decided to be tactful and left heartlessly, hoping that when she would be back, he would have recovered his usual good humor.

When Cathy returned two hours later. Alex was not in their room at the chalet. A note in his handwriting was pinned to the bedside table. "Have been called away on business. Will probably not be able to get until tomorrow. Sorry, but unavoidable. See you soon. My love. Alex."

Cathy's first reaction was anger. After all, they were supposed to be on honeymoon. Surely, business could have waited. Then she remembered the calls that came through to the house in Saigon at all hour of the day and night. She remembered Alex's frequent disappearances. Sometimes, he wouldn't return for hours ... Once again, she wondered if her husband did not have a life more complicated than he had let her believe. However, she chose to be philosophical for the time being. She lit a cigarette decided to prepare herself a drink, noticing that there wasn't much left in what had been a full bottle of Bourbon.

The young woman looked at the two inches left in the bottle dubiously. Then she shrugged. It wasn't news to her that Alex drank a lot. But he never seemed to get drunk, so why should she worry?

Alex, meanwhile, was sitting on a chair, bound hand and foot, in a private chalet somewhere around the winter resort. He was also just recovering consciousness, since he had received an injection to calm him down. His removal from the hotel had been carried out swiftly and efficiently-by professionals.

He had received a phone call to the effect that a friend wished to see him, and if he would walk along the street down the hotel, he would be contacted. It so happened that Alex was expecting to be contacted while in Litelaken, and he had walked straight into the trap.

A car had pulled up containing three men, and he had got into it without thinking twice. That was the last he remembered. While he was being taken to the chalet, a certain Frantz a waiter at the hotel-chest, had slipped into the room occupied by Alex and Cathy and placed the piece of paper on the table for Cathy to read. Frantz hadn't written it himself, but it had been passed to him with a large sum of money-for the salary he made! All Frantz had to do was leave it in Monsieur Knight's room at a given time. Frantz was thrilled to earn so much money so easily. The note was a very good imitation of Knight's handwriting, and it certainly fooled Cathy. Not that she had studied her husband's handwriting, but she would have recognized an obvious forgery.

As his brain cleared from the effects of the drug which had been pumped into his veins, Alex became slowly aware that he was in a darkened room, and that a white light was glaring on his face. He also realized that he was securely tied to the chair on which he was sitting, and his brain immediately became very alert.

As he started into the blinding glare, he could dimly discern several figures sitting on chairs behind the spotlight. And then a voice spoke. It was a flat, expressionless voice. It had no accent, no warmth, nothing. Just a voice. Alex knew that voice. It belonged to someone who had been trained to speak, when necessary, in such a way that it conveyed nothing about his origin, age, or anything else. It was the voice of a professional secret agent who preferred to remain incognito. And that was one up for Alex. A voice which was intended to express no nuances, had already warned him of the type of person who was addressing him. And what the voice said gave him a nasty shock.

The indictment was simple.

"Alexander Knight," the voice said. "You are accused of being a member of a communist spy ring operating in Southeast Asia. We would like to be told about it. You are at liberty to speak."

The voice stopped, and there was silence in the room. And then Alex spoke.

"I don't know who you are, except that possibly you are all completely out of your minds. I am an American government official, and I demanded to be released immediately."

The voice came back, as steady as ever.

"Alexander Knight, we are aware that you are an American official. To be precise, you run a department known as V.I.S. in Saigon. You deal with espionage, counter-espionage, sabotage, and many other things. We have reason to believe that you are a double agent; and we wish to know where your loyalty lies. I must warn you, Mr. Knight, that if you persist in taking the attitude of an injured innocent, things will go badly with you."

There was no doubting the threat that lay behind the emotionless voice, and Alex felt fear creeping like a cold damp fog into his bones. He had been stupid and careless enough to walk straight into this trap. He knew he would have to pay dearly for such carelessness.

His eyes were getting more accustomed to the glare now, and he could see that there were four men seated behind the table, on which the spotlight was standing. He could see the faint outline of their forehead and chins, but this was all. It suddenly occurred to him why that was all he could distinguish. The men were wearing masks. Who the hell were they? Did he know them, by any chance? Anyway, whoever they were, he would be lucky to leave their company alive.

He cursed himself again for traveling abroad with absolutely no protection. It would have been nothing unusual for him to be guarded by strong armed secrets. But he had wanted a complete break, just for a short time. And he had been stupid enough to think that he could escape, if only for a couple of weeks. But it was too late now. He had been jerked back to reality.

He began to reply to his masked interrogators, but as he did so, his hands, tied behind the chair, were busy. Fixed inside one of his thumbnails was an ingenious device that was the brainchild of a clever inventor who had been recruited into the laboratories of the American secret service. Lying snugly on the inside of his right thumbnail was a wafer-thin blade.

The crescent shaped miniature tool was inserted between the nail and the thumb, the sharp edge running parallel with his nail. The whole device was covered with a layer of hard-setting plastic, the same color as the nail itself. To bring the blade into use, it was necessary first of all to remove the plastic. This was done simply by rubbing the nail hard enough until it peeled off, leaving behind what looked like an ordinary thumb nail, and which in fact would slash a man's face to ribbons. It could also, if used with patience and care, cut through rope, although this wasn't its intended purpose. Rope would quickly blunt the blade which was no thicker than the thumbnail itself. It may even break before the rope was cut. But at least it offered a chance, and Alex was only too aware that his situation was desperate.

As he spoke, Alex rubbed his thumb against one of his other fingers, loosening the plastic cover off his nail.

"If you know who I am," he said to the four shadowy figures. "There is no use my denying it. Now, as for your charges, they are quite preposterous. I don't know who you are or what you hope to gain by bringing me here. I can only warn you that as soon as I am missed, you will not stand much chance of getting away with it. Interlaken is quite a small town and we have out own methods of dealing with thugs like yourselves, gentlemen."

There was what sounded like a chuckle from one of the masked figures. Then two of the men emerged from behind the light and came towards him.

"This is it," Alex thought to himself, and waited for the first blow. He had removed the plastic covering off the device fixed in his nail but try as he would, he couldn't reach the rope that bound his wrists. He was in danger of cutting his own arteries by trying. However, no blow came. His feet were untied from the chair, and he was forced to stand up, his wrists still bound behind him. Then he was walked out of the small room up a long, long corridor, and into a much bigger room. The curtains were drawn although he presumed it must still be light outside. There was little furniture in the room. A stretcher stood in the center of the floor. Alex could now see his hosts more clearly. But it didn't help much. All four were dark-haired approximately the same build, and wore identical black suits, with blue shirts and varied ties. He would never be able to identify any one of them if he ever met them again.

He was pushed onto the stretcher and made to lie on his side. One of the men went over to a cupboard and took out a syringe. From' his position on the stretcher, Alex could see what was happening, and guessed what they were going to do him. The syringe presumably would contain a truth serum.

But what these men didn't know was that he had been trained for just such occasions. It was all part of the unarmed combated course his own department ran in Saigon. It was possible, if trained to withstand any of the known truth serums. It was a matter of mental acrobatics. The main thing was that he knew what was going to happen. If the drug was injected unknowingly to the "patient" there was little chance of fighting its effects on the brain. But he was aware of what was going to happen.

He started to concentrate on the keyword that would allow his sub-conscious to lie, the word was Melissa, and while the syringe was being prepared, and the sleeves of his right arm rolled up above his elbow, he repeated the word time and time again to himself. He felt the needle sink into his vein, and still he thought of nothing but Melissa. He rapidly began to lose consciousness, and once he said Melissa out loud. But the four men didn't attach any significance to it.

Alex found himself drifting into a strange unreal land. In some peculiar way, he knew he wasn't conscious, yet he felt he was in touch with reality. It was as if he only had to open his eyes, and everything would be normal again. But he couldn't open his eyes, and the visions which formed in his brain were of vast snow slopes. He could feel the soft, yielding snow under his body, but it wasn't cold. Far, far away in the distance, he could see snow covered mountains, the tops on fire with a strange blue light. It was from the tops of these mountains coming out of the blue light that he heard the first question "What is your name? And then his own voice answering the mountains from the snow covered countryside.

"My name is Alexander Knight."

"How long have you been working for the American Secret Service?"

"I have worked with the American Secret Service for nine years."

"For how long have you been a double agent, Mr. Knight?"

The question boomed from the blue light en top of the mountains and he could feel pain streaking through his body. It seemed an eternity of silence before he replied. "I have never been a double agent."

There was a silence, and it seemed to be snowing. Great banks of white flakes falling on top of him, burying him beneath their softness. Then the blue light flared up brightly on the distant mountain-tops, and the questions started again....

Twenty four hours after Alex had been kidnapped by unknown individuals, he was brought back to the hotel in a state that resembled closely that of deep intoxication. Through a hazy blur, he was of the young man helping him over to his room-somebody from the chalet probably. Cathy opened the door when she heard the knock. She took one look at Alex being supported by the young man, and quickly taking his other arm, led him to the bed where he sprawled full length. Thanking the waiter, she gave him a tip and closed the door. By the time she returned by her husband's side, Alex was fast asleep.

He slept for five hours unbrokenly. And Cathy sat by the beside watching his face. She was upset and alarmed. She could only just understand him being called away from honeymoon on business, but to get dead drunk as well was too much. She had ever seen him drunk before. All this was very strange....

Eventually, Alex opened his eyes, and she called for black coffee to be brought up. When it arrived, he sat up. his face looking pale and drawn.

"For God's sake, Alex, what happened to you?" Cathy demanded as soon as he had taken a sip of coffee.

He didn't say anything, but continued to drink his coffee. When he had emptied the cup, he held it out for more. Cathy refilled it, feeling that her patience was being sorely tried.

"What's wrong?" she asked more sharply this time. "Have you completely lost the power of speech?"

For the first time, his eyes concentrated on her. While he had been drinking his coffee, they had stared blankly ahead.

"What was that" he asked, in a hollow voice she hardly recognized. "Did you say something?"

Cathy sighed. She felt alarmed and at the same time angry.

"You have been away for twenty four hours, Alex," she said slowly. "You return dead drunk, I merely asked what you have been doing."

Alex cleared his throat. He was beginning to remember where he was. This was a chalet in International, and the woman talking to him was Cathy. Yes, that was it, they had just got married. They were on honeymoon. And then everything rushed back, like a bad nightmare, in flashing images that just didn't make a complete picture. Slowly, his eyes recovered their alert, bright look.

"I'm sorry, Cathy," he .said in a more normal voice. "Everything got out of control. I would have let you know I had to go away.

"But you did leave a note!" Cathy replied. "Only you forgot to mentioned that you would be returning drunk."

Alex looked startled. "I left a note? Oh, yes, yes of course. I had completely forgotten!"

Cathy looked at her husband in amazement. She had never before heard him so vague in his manner of being. She went over to the bed and sat down beside him, taking his limp hand into hers.

"Alex, what's wrong?" she asked. "Something is wrong, please, darling, tell me."

Alex took his hand away. "No, there's nothing wrong at all." he answered. "I was called urgently for an important business matter. And we all had too much to drink. I can only apologize. Please try and forget this unfortunate incident."

Cathy looked at him, and her heart melted. He looked so sorry, so ashamed of his behavior. And after all, she did love him very much. She pushed him back on the bed and started to undress him like a child. Alex made no resistance, only moving his body to help her take off his shirt and trousers. When he was naked, she lay on top of him, her soft blonde hair tickling his face.

"Alex, why did you marry me?" she asked, her serious eyes looking directly into his.

He didn't say anything, but his hands slipped under her dress, rubbing against her thighs seductively. Cathy's throat started to get dry, and she swallowed. Alex always had this effect on her, and she had wanted to talk to him. Or did she? She had undressed him, although she had expected that he would roll into bed....

"Oh, Alex, Alex darling," she murmured, as his hands gently pulled at the elastic of her panties. Raising her body slightly, she waited while he slid them down over her round hips. Then with a sigh, she lowered herself on top of him again, feeling the hard muscle of his thick prick lying rigidly against her naked stomach.

With little gasping sounds, she started to wriggle and shake her body, pressing her cunt slit hard against the swelling penis. Juice was seeping out of Alex's tiny opening at the head of his throbbing knob. Cathy could smell the pungent maleness of his excited penis and feel the delightful stickiness of the oozing cream. She worked her panties down to her ankles and kicked them off with her shoes.

Raising her body, she kneeled astride Alex's hips, and started to take off her dress and bra. As she did so, Alex caught hold of his jerking cock and pushed it through her open legs, so that it pressed between Cathy's pliable buttocks, rubbing its juicy length against her anus. She got rid of her dress, and was coping with her bra when she felt his finger enter her quim orifice and begin frigging her clitty.

Her bare titties bouncing, she remained in an upright position, swaying her body backwards and forwards as Alex continued to frig her. As she moved, she could feel his joy stick rubbing up and down the deft between her butt cheeks. Her juices soon running freely, and she began to shake helplessly pushing her cunt hard onto Alex's exiting finger stroking her intimate folds.

Alex, lying flat on his back, was enjoying the sensation of Cathy's buttocks clamping and unclamping on his prick, the friction causing him to stretch his limbs with sensual pleasure. Her pussy was becoming very wet and sticky, but he continued to frig her mercilessly. Suddenly, he withdrew his finger from her cunt, and catching hold of her hips, positioned his throbbing prick against the rim of her tiny arsehole, and pulled her downwards.

Cathy gave a cry of pain as the large knob forced its way up into her forbidden private back passage. For a moment, she wasn't sure what was happening. No one, not even Alex, had tried to do this to her before. She gave another cry of pain as again he pulled her down into a sitting position, jamming another few inches of his long prick into her now tortured arsehole.

Alex grunted as Cathy's tight little anus closed like a sheath around his cock. Inserting a finger into her cunt, he once more continued his frigging, while he pushed his hips upwards. There wasn't far to go now and he would have the whole length of his dick buried into Cathy's backside. He began to little upward fucking movements, pushing the last few inches of his prick into the stretched anus, little by little.

Cathy felt her face burning with shame at what Alex was doing to her, but as he continued his frigging of her clitty, and the pain of the initial insertion died away from her arsehole, she began to enjoy the new sensations of this double fucking slowly, she lowered her butt to meet Alex's up-thrust movement. To her surprise, and in spite of herself, the novel sensation of Alex's penis stuck up her arsehole began to arouse her carnal lust to a degree she hadn't experienced before.

She bent forward, placing her hands on either side of Alex's chest, and in this more comfortable position, she cautiously started to slide her butt up and down on the cock which was filling the tight channel of her backside. Soon, he was riding the full length of it, pushing herself downwards as Alex's hips rose to make sure he entered her up to the hilt at each thrust.

As her rear channel relaxed, she rode faster and faster up and down the slippery stick. Panting for breath, she felt herself poised on the knife-edge of a climax, brought on by the relentless finger sliding around inside her love-wet cunt.

The bed shook and creaked as Alex continued to thrust himself upwards, penetrating to the full Cathy's now pliat arsehole. His stomach slapped against her soft buttocks harder at each thrust as the spunk began to rise in his throbbing tool.

He could see the globes of her breasts swinging in the air above his face as she pushed herself up and down in a delirium of pleasure. And then he was coming, the sperm bursting out of his knob slit and shooting up into Cathy's butt. The pleasure was almost unbearable as she sank right down onto his spewing penis, holding the whole length inside her well fucked arsehole.

Cathy felt Alex' prick swell inside her and knew that he was shooting his load up into her butt. She sank down for the last time onto the glorious rigid phallus, her own cream gushing abundantly out of her wide open cunt, and running down her thighs and onto Alex's fingers.

As he withdrew his hand, she released another gushing stream of creamy juice. In the agony of this second orgasm, she realized that she had never before in her life felt so sexually free of inhibitions, or so satisfied. She felt eternally grateful towards this man who had taught her so much.

Later, when they had climbed into bed to sleep off the exertions of the last hour, she remembered his absence from the hotel and his drunken return. Then she dismissed the puzzling incident from her mind ... It was no use thinking about it. It was isolated and it doesn't really matter. Whatever Alex had been doing, he had returned to her. And she was glad for his presence by her side.

She put her arm his naked chest, hr had on is boulder and drifted into sleep. They were married and Alex would always be with her. .This was the one thing Cathy Pummer had ever asked from life: to be married to Alex Knight; and she had obtained it. How could she complain or worry when life had been so generous with her? A light smile played on her full lips as her breathing grew more regular, keeping in pace with that of the stranger holding her in his arms.