Chapter Twenty-Two
Morris Levine and Terry met in the back of Gone Garry's in the Village.
"So many deaths," Levine sighed.
Gone poured out three tumblers of whiskey. Each man took a tumbler and drank.
"It couldn't be helped," Terry said.
"We located Miss Leona Gay," Levine said. "She's in a hotel in Los Angeles."
"Are you going to pick her up?" Terry asked.
"I haven't made up my mind," Levine said. "She's not too important to us."
"You know the five thousand dollars in marked bills I returned to you?" Terry said.
"Yes," said Levine. "What about them?"
"Do you think you could dig up five thousand in good money and send it to Miss Gay?"
"What on earth for?"
"She saved my life," Terry said. "That should be worth at least five thousand."
"Well, I don't know."
"If it hadn't been for her," Terry said, "this gang wouldn't have been smashed. She's responsible for it all."
Levine sighed. "I suppose I could manage it."
"You're very generous."
"Not at all," Levine said. "I may call on you again. You never know. I have to keep in your good graces."
Terry grinned. "Next time make sure I don't come across such luscious women."
"You're complaining?" Levine said.
"It's distracting," Terry said. "I didn't always have my mind on my work."
"Too bad," Levine said dryly. He handed Terry an envelope. "Your money."
"Thanks." Terry pocketed the envelope.
Levine finished his whiskey. "Well, gentlemen, I'm afraid I can't linger. I have things to attend to." He shook hands with Terry and Gone let him out by the front door.
Terry was pouring a second drink when Gone returned to the back room.
"How did this dame help you?" Gone asked. "I said she saved my life."
"Our agents found a skirt in Leona Gay's room when they went through the place," Gone said. "There was a hole in one of the pockets. There was burnt powder around the hole. Someone had shot off a gun in the pocket."
"Wonderful how the lab boys find out things," Terry commented. He finished the whiskey. "I guess I'll be shoving off."
"You didn't kill Hurtze and Flagler," Gone said. "It was the Gay dame."
"That's pure guess work."
Gone shrugged his shoulders. "We're not going to press it. We couldn't prosecute anyway. She did it to save your life.
"I just don't want her name dragged through the papers," Terry said. "Let her have her chance."
"Sure."
Terry took Gone's hand, shook it. "Tell me, do you really know something about beatnicks and their poetry?"
"Sure, I do. My old man used to sell zoot suits in Brooklyn during the Thirties."
"Okay. I just wondered."
"The place makes a good blind for contacting agents," Gone said. "But I do know my beatnicks."
"And that's what really counts."
Gone saw Terry to the door. "Take care of yourself," Gone said.
"Sure. So long." Terry walked out of the store, turned a corner. The sun was high.
It was going to be a nice day.
He went to a phone booth and called Rene. Then he hailed a passing cab and drove to his apartment.
He ran upstairs ... the door was open ... Rene was standing naked on the other side of the room.
Terry looked at her for a moment ... Then began to walk toward her very slowly undressing as he approached her.
When he stopped in front of her he was stark naked.
Rene was breathing rapidly. Her breasts bobbing up and down. Her nipples were rigid.
Terry put his arms around her and kissed her on the lips pushing his tongue into her mouth.
She pressed her body hard against his.
Slowly they both began to sink to the floor.
Rene was on her back and Terry was in her ... long stroking her.
For a while, there, he thought, I didn't think I'd ever see you again, baby.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Rene was asleep now, and even though Terry was relaxed and sated sexually, he still couldn't get to sleep.
He was staring up at the ceiling and thinking. Thinking not about this most recent contract, but of his many years in the fields of Military Intelligence and counter espionage.
He wished that he could get back into the regular service and not have to rely on this free-lance crap.
True ... the money for a free-lance operator was very good, but he was an organization man and he was much happier as part of a team.
The "Team" had a special meaning in Terry's memory. The faces of the men he had worked with at one time or another began to flash on the ceiling.
There was Gateaue again. Gateaue who was mutilated by the Gestapo and then killed in the ensuing rescue operation.
Then there was Howie Engle. Betrayed to the black-shirts in Italy by his own wife. They burned Howie alive. His wife survived the war and became an International figure in world politics.
She was a beautiful woman. Her sudden disappearance from the face of the earth was a complete mystery to everyone in the world except Terry.
The scene began to unfold on the ceiling.
It was in India that he had accidentally seen her walking casually up the street toward his hotel. He was standing at the window staring at the throngs of people that milled about the streets of New Delhi.
He remembered feeling hot and uncomfortable even in his air-conditioned hotel room. When suddenly he saw her and his blood turned cold sending a shiver through his body.
She was a very beautiful woman. An exceptional figure. Olive complexion ... natural blonde with blue eyes. The type of woman that's usually found in Northern Italy. Her type of beauty, though, is very rarely found. Tall ... about five feet eight Big knockers, but not so big that they were grotesque. Hips that seemed to swivel a man to insanity. Buttocks that made men and women turn and stop to watch them as they jiggled down the street. And legs that would make Dietrich put a gun to her head.
Her voice was pitched low and even when she only said good morning, it sounded like an invitation to the bedroom.
Terry remembered all of this as he watched her turn and enter the lobby of his hotel.
He couldn't help but wonder what she was doing in India. Whatever it was, he was sure it was something that would cause him trouble.
Despite his report to Allied Intelligence about her betrayal of her husband, and of her association with the enemy, she had been able to gain the confidence of important people and assume a position of importance in post war military government.
She had done this by attaching herself to a big allied General. Terry had told the General about her activities but he had refused to believe him.
The General never had a chance to regret his stupidity. He was assasinated. Terry was sure that Howie's wife had arranged the whole deal, but he couldn't prove it and once more she came out of the whole stinking mess smelling like roses.
It had been years since he had seen her. Now the police action in Korea was on and he was engaged in a caper with the Chinese Reds that had taken him from Berlin to New Delhi.
She was here, too. He wondered if she was involved with the Commies.
Terry knew that there was no difference between the extremists on the far right and the extremists on the far left, so that she could make the transition from Facist to Communist without even turning over.
Should he keep an eye on her without letting her know he knew she was here?
No! If she was a figure in the caper he was working on, then she already knew that he was here.
If she was involved and didn't know about him, then exposing himself to her could shake her up.
Terry turned away from the window and walked toward the closet. He opened the door, reached in and picked up a gladstone bag. He put the bag on the bed, took the end of his keychain out of his pocket and inserted a small key in the lock. The bag opened.
To a laymen's eyes the bag would appear to be empty.
Terry took out his pen knife and cut two rows of stitches on the inside side of the bag. The hide separated. Terry closed the pen knife and put it back in his pocket.
He reached back into the bag and grabbed the end of the leather that he had just cut loose.
Holding the bag with one hand he yanked at the leather. It ripped around the inside of the bag from one side to the other.
When all the stitches were ripped, Terry was holding a shoulder strap, with a holster containing a .45 automatic.
He strapped it to his body and took the gun from the holster. He checked the clip and shoved it back into the gun.
He looked into the bag. All along the area that was now bared were fully loaded clips held in place by leather thongs. There were fifty-eight rounds in each clip plus one clip in the gun meant four-hundred and eight rounds.
He removed four clips from the bag putting two in each side pocket of his jacket that was hanging on the head board of the bed."
He put on his jacket and looked into the mirror. He smoothed out the jacket as best as he could hoping that the bulge of the gun wasn't too obvious through the light weight white linen.
When he was satisfied with his appearance he walked out of his suite, locking the door behind him.
He could have walked down the one flight to the lobby, but the elevator had opened to let an old lady out and Terry walked in.
The elevator doors opened on the main floor and Terry stepped out and walked to the cigarette counter. He ordered a package of Players. Since he was posing as a British Enginer it was only natural that he should smoke British cigarettes.
He turned around and began to case the lobby. It was crowded, as usual. For some reason that Terry could never understand.
The lobby of every hotel in India was always mobbed.
He nodded to several people that he knew. Spotted a Russian agent who still did not know his cover had been broken. Smiled when he saw the redheaded mistress of a British Embassy Official.
Terry smiled on seeing her because the stupid Embassy Official was laying out a lot of loot for what he thought was his private piece of nookie. The redhead would put out for anybody who would lay down with her.
His eyes continued around the room seeing everything. They stopped when they settled on the blonde head he had been searching for.
It was her alright ... Howie's murdering wife. She was talking to a Sikh Officer.
Terry began to stroll casually across the lobby.
When he came within hearing distance, he sat down in a stuffed chair that was convenient.
They were conversing in Hindi.
Whatever they had been discussing was at an end and they were saying good-bye.
The Sikh Officer turned and walked toward the elevators.
She turned and started to walk past Terry. She didn't notice him sitting there and he waited until she was two steps by him. Then he stood up and spoke.
"Hello Sunda," he said softly.
She turned. There was a smile on her face, as though she was about to greet an old friend.
Then she saw Terry. The smile vanished instantly and her beautiful olive complexion turned sallow.
Her lips moved,, but no sound escaped them.
That was when Terry knew that she was up to some dirty work. Otherwise her seeing him would only have been a slightly unpleasant experience for her.
Terry stepped toward her smiling as he did so, "Let's go to the lounge and discuss old times."
She regained her composure immediately and they both walked through the lobby talking quietly and smiling at one another. Neither one of them could afford to attract attention.
Although the way Sunda's buttocks jiggled when she walked it was impossible for her not to attract attention.
They sat down in a booth. The waiter took their order for two gin and tonics.
"What brings you to India, Sunda?" Terry asked.
She laughed, softly. "It could be pleasure." Then her eyes narrowed as she said, "It could be business. But for whatever reason I am here, we do know why you are here. Don't we Terry Darling?"
"You and I both know," Terry said softly, "that the only pleasure trips you take are laying down. You wouldn't come all the way to India just to get laid so you must be here on business. Business for you means that someone is going to die. Who is it Sunda?"
Her face suddenly became hard.
"I hate you Terry Scott. I hate you more than any other human being on earth. If anybody is going to die it is going to be you!"
Terry laughed. "Do you want to have me killed because I know that you betrayed your husband and had him killed or because I know that you are now working for the Reds?"
The latter part of Terry's question was a shot in the dark, but it paid off.
"Both reasons, are good," she snapped. "You are the only person living who can hurt me. Therefore you must be put out of the way."
"You will have to get me first, Sunda," Terry said. "This time I am not going to let you escape. I want to kill you for what you did to Howie. Those black-shirt friends of your slowly roasted him over an open fire. It took him eight hours to die."
"Twelve," Sunda said smiling.
"What?" Gasped Terry.
"It took him twelve hours to die," she answered. "I know because I watched it from the start to the finish. My people learned well from the Gestapo. He never lost consciousness for one second during those twelve hours. He screamed, he moaned ... he begged for mercy. He was scorched from head to toe. A mass of bleeding blisters It was a pleasure to watch Terry."
Her eyes began to sparkle as she recalled the agonizing death of her husband.
"He was chained, like a pig, on a spit over a fire," she continued. "Just close enough so that he would cook slowly. Do you know what I did while my darling husband was being tortured, Terry? I had an orgy with his tormentors. I let them do every thing they wanted to do to me right in front of him. Each orgasm I experienced seemed better than the one before. His torture was ecstasy for me. He never thrilled me in bed the way I was thrilled being sexed and watching him die."
Terry wanted to lash out at her, but he controlled himself.
She was being carried away by her own narrative of Howie's death and little beads of perspiration were dotting her forehead and upper lip. Terry could tell she was experiencing orgasms the way her body twitched from time to time.
She sipped the drink she was holding and continued her story.
"Oh, what exquisite agony he endured. He begged ... he pleaded ... he told me he would forgive me everything if only I would kill him and relieve his pain But why should I have killed him and put an end to the most pleasure I had ever experienced. The hours passed by. Slowly for Howie, quickly for me. My orgasms were now continuous. I didn't even need a man in me to come. Just watching Howie burn and listening to him scream was enough to send the greatest of sensations running through my body. Then I had the idea that made all my sexual experiences seem like child's play.
Just the thought of it made me come. I sent the guard to find a knife, fork, plate, salt and pepper. I got as close to Howie as I could without burning myself. Every hair on his body had burned off. He was roasted from top to toe. The juices from his own body dripped into the fire making the flames lick higher. The blood was boiling in his veins but he was still alive and still conscious. He couldn't talk anymore. Only scream. But he was still aware of me. The guard returned with the utensils I had requested. I had the guard put them on a bench and move the bench close to Howie. I had the guard stop the spit when Howie was on his side. He didn't know what I was going to; do. The obvious question was in his blood shot smoke filled eyes.
I found my panties on the floor and picked them up. I took the knife from the table and walked up to Howie. He thought I was going to kill him. He would have liked that, but I didn't want him to die ... not yet.
He watched me as I moved to the lower part of his torso. I wrapped my panties around my hand. His body was to hot to touch.
I grabbed his malehood with my panty wrapped hand and sliced it neatly close to his body. His blood was so thick from cooking that it oozed but like thick syrup.
The look of horror on Howie's face sent lightening bolts through my body. When I had control of myself again, I placed Howie's malehood on the plate and sat down. Howie could see everything I was doing now.
I sprinkled salt and pepper on his severed and thoroughly cooked malehood. I placed the fork into it and sliced it into small pieces. Then I ate it ... very slowly chewing it deliberately ... savoring every morsel. It was very tender ... cooked to a turn. It must have taken me half an hour to eat it ... and while I ate it I was experiencing atomic shock waves ... orgasm on top of orgasm " ... I never had them so good before or since.
When I swallowed the last piece of his malehood, he died. It was timed just right. If I had come again it would have killed me."
Sunda stopped talking and collapsed against the back of the booth. She had received sexual gratification just by relating the story.
Terry had to exercise all of his self control to keep from taking his gun out and shooting her on the spot.
Sunda opened her eyes picked up her drink and finished it.
The waiter automatically brought them two more.
Sunda swallowed half of the second drink before she had the energy to speak again.
"You, my darling Terry," she said. "You will not be so lucky as to die as quickly as my late husband."
"I take it that you have plans ... special plans to bring about my demise," Terry said.
"My friends are expert at the art of torture. They have made it into a fine art. You should see some of the magnificent agony they have designed for your United Nations Prisoners of War."
She took another taste of her gin and tonic.
"Let me just tell you of one beautiful sight that they performed on a Turkish Private."
Terry did not interrupt her. She was all wound up. This beautiful but perverted woman whose sexual gratification was involved with sadistic torture.
"I was in North Korea," she whispered. "The Chinese troops had marched in some U. N. Prisoners. They were a mixed group of men. There was one Turkish Private, a tall handsome man with a great deal of pride. His confidence in himself as a man gave him the bearing of an aristocrat.
Chinese Military inteligence always looks for the outstanding man among the P. O. W.s.
If they can break down that one strong man, and do it in front of his comrades, they then usually get complete co-operation from the rest of the prisoners.
This Turkish Private was obviously the man they had to break. They made their preparations immediately. The prisoners were tired, cold and hungry. They were given no time to refresh themselves or to think.
The Turkish Private was pulled out of line and brought to the center of the compound. His comrades were made to stand at attention.
It was bitter cold and a light snow was falling. The guards stripped him of his clothing and hand cuffed him to a whipping post. His body was beautiful. Tall, dark, muscular and he had a flowing black moustache.
First they gave him twenty lashes, using a barbed bull whip. His back and buttocks were ripped to shreds. He didn't utter a sound. He didn't even flinch."
His stoicism angered his captors and they turned his body around so that his back was up against the whipping post.
He looked around the compound. Smiled at his comrades and in a strong loud voice shouted encouragement to them. Then he spied his tormentors, laughed in their faces and spit at their feet, defying them to do their worst.
His arrogance angered his Chinese captors and they ordered that he should receive forty lashes on the front side of his body.
The first lash slashed across his face, tearing the flesh from his right cheek to his left ear and ripping out his left eye. Still he did not beg for mercy.
They beat him unmercifully. His chest, stomach, abdomen, malehood, and thighs were slashed to ribbons. They didn't stop at forty lashes. They continued to seventy. When they realized that whipping would not break the man, they brought out a diabolical device that consisted of a long table, an open topped cast iron kettle with straps, and a rat in a cage.
They removed the hand cuffs from the Turkish P. O. W. They thought he would collapse and that they would have to drag him to the table. But he fooled them all. As soon as his hands were free he attacked his guards. Before they could subdue him he had broken the neck of the soldier who had whipped him, and permanently disabled two more of his tormentors. Then, when he realized he could do no more damage, he calmly strode over to the table and laid down upon it.
The soldiers tied him to the table securely. While they were tying him he shouted to his comrades in his native tongue. A Turkish Officer translated his remarks and was shot dead on the spot for his efforts. Another Turkish Officer took over the translating. The guards were going to shoot him, but the Chinese officers realized that someone else would take his place so they spared his life. They had an ace in the hole, they thought, with the torture they had planned for the Turkish Private.
So far, the Chinese plans to completely demoralize the U. N. P. O. W.'s had not been successful. In fact their torture of the Turkish soldier had angered the prisoners and they were becoming hard to handle. The Chinese had to order out more guards. But they were confident that the atrocity that was about to take place would destroy the prisoners morale.
They approached the Turkish soldier who was tied to the table. One of the guards placed the cast iron pot upside down on the Turks belly. Straps from the hp of the pot hung loose over the sides of the Turk's body and the table.
Another guard approached the table with the caged rat. It was an ugly looking beast. The prisoners became silent as the first guard tilted the pot on the Turk's belly and the second guard opened the rat's cage close to the tilted pot. The rat scooted out of the cage onto the Turk's belly. The guard let go of the pot. The rat was now trapped, surrounded by a cast iron pot and the soft flesh of the Turk's belly.
The first guard tied the pot straps under the table. The second guard took hot coals from a nearby fire and placed them on top of the pot. Then both guards stepped away from the Turk.
Nothing happened for a minute or two and then the Turk's one good eye flew wide open and he gasped.
It was obvious to everyone now what had to take place inside that pot. The fire was making it very hot in there and since the rat couldn't claw through cast iron he could only get out one other way. Through the Turk's belly.
Blood was running out from the side of the pot. The Turk must have been in agony, but he never screamed.
Suddenly the blood gushed from between his legs and the bloody rat leaped from the gaping hole he had clawed through the Turk's body.
The Turk screamed out in English, "Kill the Communist Bastards," and died.
The P. O. W.'s turned on their guards and there was mayhem in the compound.
An American non-com. killed the nearest Chinese soldier to him and grabbed his rifle He charged toward where I was standing with the Chinese Officers. He was shot several times but he kept on coming. Before I could turn and run he was on us. He sliced the Chinese Colonel from crotch to gizzard with the bayonet and then a bullet in the head put a finish to him.
I escaped into the Officers quarters and ran to the second floor and watched the whole riot. The U. N. soldiers fought like tigers. They were outnumbered and unarmed but they were winning.
The guards in the towers surrounding the compound finally opened up with machine guns killing all the prisoners and many of their own men. When it was all over we counted one hundred U. N. prisoners and two hundred and fifty Chinese soldiers dead. The U. N. had won a decisive victory at this camp.
The rat didn't fare too well either. Through the melee I spotted the trail of blood left in the snow by his blood soaked body. Other rats came scurrying out from beneath the building to follow his bloody trail. They caught him at the fence at the end of the compound. They killed and ate him."
Sunda stopped speaking and finished her drink.
Terry stared at her, unable to speak, unable to believe that he was looking at a human being.
"You, my Darling Terry," Sunda said smiling. "I can assure will undergo torture that will last for months, and I will never leave your side for a minute."
Terry got up from the table and looked down at the beautiful but revolting female and spoke in a voice that made her blanche. "If it is the last thing that I do," he said softly. "I'm going to rid this world of you and send you to hell where you belong!"
He turned and began walking out of the bar. When he came to the door, he turned and looked back to where Sunda was sitting.
A man had taken Terry's place at the table. An oriental man. Sunda was speaking to him and he was staring hard at Terry. He hadn't known about Terry before, but he sure as hell knew about Terry now. And Terry knew who the oriental gentlemen was. He was General Lao Tsung Tse, Head of Chinese Intelligence.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Terry was stretched out on his bed smoking a cigarette and thinking ... wondering if exposing himself to Sunda had been the right idea.
Right or wrong, he thought, it was too damned late to change things. His cover was off and General Tse probably had his entire organization alerted to the fact that a known allied agent was in India.
They didn't know why he was there, so they wouldn't try to kill him ... not yet anyway. They would just keep him under surveillance until they could figure out his assignment and then, if it was to their advantage, move in for the kill.
The big problem was that General Tse was his assignment. British intelligence had come up with some information about an atomic spy plot. They, in turn, informed American intelligence. Since Terry was an American working for the British Intelligence, Washington requested that the British assign Terry to the case. This kept the British happy, since it was their baby to begin with, and Terry was on their payroll. And at the same time Washington knew that Terry would protect the American Interests with zeal.
He was called in for a briefing on the case by his superior. From the little information the British had he surmised this much, the plans for the atom bomb had been copied ... they had to be smuggled out of the states ... who had them and where they were was a mystery ... they only knew that delivery was to be made to General Tse in India ... General Tse's involvement gave the case triple A priority. Terry was shown some photo's of General Tse ... and off he went to India.
He had been on the search for Tse, and did not even know he was in India until he saw him sitting at the table with Sunda.
Two things were obvious at this point to Terry, one: General Tse's appearance meant that delivery of the bomb secrets was imminent. Two: Tse's sitting at the same table with Sunda meant that she was involved with the plot.
It was safe to say that she did not have the bomb plans. If she had, General Tse would have been on his way home and would not have stopped off for a tete-a-tete at Sunda's table.
So, Terry knew who Tse was and why he was in India.
Tse knew who Terry was but did not know the reason he was in India.
How would he be able to carry off his assignment successfully? Only through contact with General Tse, and the key to General Tse was Sunda.
How could he possibly use Sunda? They were on opposite sides of the fence and to make matters even worse they hated each other with a vengeance.
Hate, thought Terry, hate ... hate! I wonder, he thought, hate is supposed to be akin to love. I wonder ... it might be possible....
He jumped up off the bed and jerked the phone off its cradle He asked the operator for Sunda's suite number. She gave it to him. He thanked her and hung up, put on his jacket and started out to Sunda's suite.
He knocked on the door wondering if she was even in. She could still be down stairs talking to General Tse.
The door opened ... Sunda was standing there wearing a transparent negligee with nothing underneath it. The white negligee in contrast with her blond hair and dark complexion, seemed to make her even more beautiful.
Terry's eyes moved from her gorgeous face to her magnificent breasts. They were bare except for the flimsy covering on the negligee. They were so firm ... the nipples hard and stiff trying to push out through the material.
Terry couldn't help wondering how her knockers were able to hold themselves up without any help.
Then his eyes moved down the rest of her body and he noticed she shaved places other than under her arms.
"What do you want?" Sunda asked viciously.
Terry was so astounded by her beauty that he could not speak. Her naked charms had gotten to him and being a normal man, she excited him.
It is almost impossible for a man to hide his passion when he is wearing a white linen suit; and Sunda noticed the growing bulge in his trousers.
As much as she hated Terry, she was flattered that he could want her body and before he could answer her question, she stepped aside, smiled and invited him in.
She closed the door and ushered him into the living room of her suite. She waved him to the sofa and walked behind the bar and began mixing drinks.
Terry watched her silently. Neither one of them spoke a word until Sunda approached Terry holding two drinks.
She handed one to him and said, "I still remember your favorite drink. Vodka Gimlet, right?"
"Right," said Terry in between sips at his drink.
Sunda sat next to him on the sofa. The proximity of her nearly naked body was driving Terry crazy. "We are enemies," Sunda said. "That is correct," answered Terry. "One of us must destroy the other," she continued. "Right again."
"Then let me tell you what I plan to do to you," she said. "First of all I am going to destroy your masculine ego. When I have done that, then I will kill you. I will destroy your ego with sex. You are the kind of man who has always made out very well in bed with women. You have always been able to keep up and go beyond them so that they would do almost anything to crawl back into the sack with you. Well, Terry my Darling, I am going to let you use my body. The only thing I am going to tell you is that no man has ever been able to keep up with me. I am too good. I know tricks that no other woman in the world knows. My tricks will destroy you. I can only receive satisfaction by torturing someone. Your destruction will give me satisfaction. Shall we begin now?"
She placed her drink on the table next to the sofa, stood up and let her negligee drop to the floor.
She was so beautiful that Terry could not speak.
She took the glass from Terry's hand and set it on the table next to hers.
Taking his hands in hers, she pulled him to his feet. She put her hands behind his head and pulled his face towards hers until their lips met.
When his lips touched hers it was like touching a live wire. Sparks danced inside of Terry's head. Her probing tongue sent bolts of electricity charging down to his toes.
He threw his arms around her, grabbed her buttocks with his hands, squeezed them and pressed her body closer to his.
She pushed him away from her and said, "Please Terry, take off your clothes.
"The linen is scratching my body."
Terry needed no second invitation. He pulled the clothing from his body in record time letting it drop haphazardly to the floor. His shoulder holster and gun were close to the bottom of the pile of clothing.
Sunda was lying on the thick carpet with her arms stretched out to Terry.
Her breasts did not even flatten out when she was lying down.
"Come to me Darling," she said huskily. "I am very excited."
Terry stretched out on top of her and placed his mouth over her breast. He could feel her muscles rippling up and down the length of his body.
Sunda spread her legs, reached her hand down, grasped Terry's malehood and placed it where she wanted it.
Terry slowly pressed his hips down and entered her. She immediately did something inside her body that forced an ecstatic moan from Terry's lips. Sunda laughed.
Terry suddenly felt fear. She was something he had never had before and if he couldn't keep up with her it could mean his total downfall.
Whatever it was she was doing in there felt wonderful and he was finding it difficult to hold back.
He was groaning and moaning with the effort, and Sunda was enjoying his agony.
Then Terry thought of the atrocity she had performed on Howie and the Turkish P. O. W. and from that instant on Terry gained the upper hand.
She was good, all right ... damned good ... and she had movements that Terry never even knew existed.
But, he was in complete control of himself now. He could enjoy what she was doing and still win the battle.
The battle waged for a half an hour before Sunda began to weaken. She had used every trick she knew and he still had not lost control. In fact she felt the stirring of an orgasm beginning to build inside of her. If she did have one this way, it would be the first time in her life that torture was not involved.
When she began to moan Terry knew he had her licked. She was beginning to twitch involuntarily now. Terry knew that the only reason this had never happened to her this way before was because no man had ever been able to keep going long enough against her exciter lamp.
She was bouncing up and down very fast now. It had taken him an hour of steady in and out long strokes but she was ready now. Terry increased his tempo and she began to scream and they both hit the target together.
When Sunda was finally able to catch her breath, she said, "you have beaten me Terry. No man has ever before made me come like that. I don't think there is another man alive, who could do it that way except you. You have made it impossible for me to kill you."
Terry had not rolled off of Sunda when he finished. He was still in her and was ready to go again. He began to move inside her.
She was so surprised and pleased at the prospect of experiencing that wonderful thrill again that she threw her legs around Terry's back, making it impossible for him to get into action when the door flew open.
A man stood there, shocked momentarily at the sight of Terry and Sunda making love on the rug.
Then he ran across the room and kicked Terry in the ribs with the point of his shoe.
Terry groaned in agony and rolled off of Sunda when she unwrapped her legs from around his back.
Terry tried to roll out of the stranger's way, but the man was quick and this time he caught Terry in the crotch with his foot.
Terry collapsed to the floor, retching and gagging.
The man aimed his toe at Terry's head. Then a shot blasted the silence. The man gasped and fell forward over Terry.
Terry dragged himself out from under the dead man and looked around the room.
Sunda was sitting next to his clothing with a smoking .45 in her hands. It was Terry's gun.
She dropped the pistol and crawled rapidly across the room to Terry.
"Are you hurt, Darling?" she asked.
She didn't wait for an answer. She looked toward the dead man and continued talking.
"I couldn't let him kill you. You make me feel so good when you screw me. You were getting me going a second time and that fool had to interrupt. Can you continue doing it to me now, Darling? I'm so hot! Please cool me off with your hose!"
A voice from across the room interrupted them.
"There is no time for that now!"
It was General Tse and he was pointing a pistol at them.
He walked to the body of the dead man ... never taking his eyes off of them.
He kneeled next to the dead man and put his hand under the man's body and turned him over onto his back. The dead man's jacket opened up. There was a white envelope sticking part way out of the inside pocket.
Gen. Tse removed the envelope and opened it. It contained micro-film. General Tse smiled and said to Terry. "This is the Delivery we have been waiting for. You will both please get dressed as we are leaving now."
"You have what you wanted," Terry said. "Therefore you don't need me. Why don't you just kill me now?"
"No," said Tse. "You may have some information that we can use. After that ... well ... maybe we will kill you and maybe we won't Now please dress, you are both coming with me."
Terry put his clothes on in the living room. Then he and General Tse went into the bedroom and watched Sunda dress.
She didn't put on any underwear. Just a sheath dress and some pumps. She brushed her hair into place and then they were ready.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The Chinese driver opened the door of the car and they stepped out and climbed into the waiting jet aircraft.
General Tse told them where to sit and then he sat two rows behind them. A sign in Chinese flashed on and off over the door to the pilot's compartment and Sunda told him to fasten his safety belt.
They were in the air and flying north.
Terry opened his safety belt and stood up to look around. They were the only people on board.
He looked at General Tse, who held a pistol up in the air to indicate to Terry not to try any funny business.
Terry sat down next to Sunda. "Do not worry darling," she said. "I will not let them kill you. I need you too much. Just tell them what they want to know and with my influence we can both survive and live in China."
The prospect of living in China did not appeal to Terry, but he did not voice his thoughts.
Sunda reached her hand over to Terry's lap and unzipped his trousers. She put her hand inside and pulled out his manhood.
Terry did not try to stop her.
She stroked it ... kissed it ... spoke to it. Then she stood up and pulled the dress off over her head.
She turned and faced Terry. Then she straddled him placing her knees on the seat at each side of her body.
Then she lowered herself on top of his manhood until he was all the way inside her.
She was primed for this experience now and they both had several orgasms before she stopped for a rest.
"Oh my Darling," she said. "You are just magnificent. I could do this to you forever. When we get to China...."
"Do not make any plans for China my dear," General Tse interrupted. "Your infatuation for this enemy has destroyed your usefullness to us and we may kill you too."
There was fear in Sunda's eyes and she turned toward Terry.
Terry didn't say anything, he just began to move his manhood inside Sunda's body and that was enough to get her mind off of their present problems.
They had been flying for about two hours. Sunda was naked, sleeping in the seat next to Terry. His arm was around her and his hand was on her breast.
Suddenly the plane bounced. Sunda woke with a start. A voice yelled something over the loud speaker in Chinese and Sunda tied her safety belt over her naked belly and told Terry to fasten his belt.
Terry looked out the window and saw two engines spitting sparks and fire.
Then the plane went into a steep dive.
This is it, thought Terry. Well ... it would be quicker this way than being tortured to death by General Tse.
Sunda was screaming. The ground seemed to be rushing up at them.
Then Terry felt the pull of gravity as the plane began to level off.
It was then that Terry realized that the pilot had gone into the dive to try and put the fire out.
The only trouble was that the pilot had made an error and did not begin to pull out of the dive soon enough and the plane was bellying down the side of a snow capped mountain.
The last thing Terry remembered was snow flying up past the window. The ear splitting sound of tearing metal, and a bouncing, jerking pulling at his body that caused extreme pain and then he blacked out.
Terry first became aware of the pain in his head. He opened his eyes and peered into the darkness.
He moved his arms and then felt all over his body for broken bones. Except for the pain in his head he was in good shape.
He undid his safety belt and opened the compartment over-head reaching for a flash light. He found a lantern.
He turned it on and flooded the plane with light. It was a shambles. Seats torn out, windows smashed. Terry wondered how he had survived.
The electrical system had not conked out even though there were no lights. The inside of the plane was warm. Terry looked out of the window. Nothing was there except snow and ice. If the heat had gone off he would have frozen to death.
He turned the light on Sunda and began running his hand over her naked body.
Aside from some scratches and bruises from the safety belt, she had no broken bones. She was still unconscious. She had probably fainted from fright.
Terry got up and walked back to General Tse.
General Tse had his pistol pointed at Terry.
"I see that you survived," the General said. "Unfortunately my leg is broken, but do not get too close to me or I will kill you. Go and check on the pilots."
Terry walked up the aisle to the entrance of the cabin. The door had been torn off of its hinges and had smashed the co-pilot's head in. He was dead.
The pilot was not dead, but he would be in a few minutes. A huge piece of glass from the windshield had penetrated his body and had him pinned to the back of the seat.
The wind blowing in through the broken window was cold and Terry turned to get out of there when he noticed the holster on the pilot's hip. He reached over and took the gun. It was a Russian automatic with a full clip.
He put the gun in his belt and buttoned his jacket. On the way out of the pilot's cabin he leaned the door in the hatchway to give them some protection from the icey wind.
Sunda was awake now and crying. Terry offered her no comfort. He walked back to General Tse and informed him that the pilots were dead.
Tse just nodded his head and said. "The storage batteries that are supplying the heat will not last much longer. In the compartments over the seats you will find Arctic clothing. Bring some to me and then you two put some on."
Terry found the clothing and distributed it to Sunda and the General.
He was dressed when the General called to him.
He walked back and saw that the General was only partially dressed.
"Get the first aid equipment." The General ordered. "You are going to set my leg."
Terry found the kit and removed the splints and other necessary aids he needed to set the General's leg.
"Do not try to get the gun when you work on my leg. If you do, I kill you and let the girl fix me up."
Terry felt around and found where the break was on the General's shin bone. Then he grabbed the General's foot, pulled and twisted very quickly.
The General screamed in agony. A shot sang out and a slug buried itself into the back of the seat behind Terry's head. He did not stop working. He felt the break. It was in place. He set the splints and then placed the General's broken foot inside one leg of the arctic trousers. The General pulled them on the rest of the way alone.
"There are tents, stoves, fuel, food and water that will keeps us alive for more than a month," the General said. "Set the tent up outside and get one of the stoves going inside it so that it will be warm when we get into it."
It was freezing cold out there and it had taken Terry almost an hour to get everything ready. Between the cumbersome clothing and the wind and the cold he had a very rough time of it.
He had finished just in time, when he went back in the plane to get Sunda and the General, the batteries had gone dead and the temperature was dropping fast.
Sunda had found a crutch for the General and when Terry called to them, Sunda helped the General out of the plane and into the tent. The General never let go of that pistol.
Inside the tent they made themselves comfortable. Terry had some soup cooking on the stove.
Outside the cold wind blew at gale force.
"While you were getting the tent ready, I tried to get a fix on our position," the General said. "We are in Tibet. If my calculations are correct, we should be quite close to a caravan route. About fifty miles due north is one of our military bases. One hundred miles to the south is Lhasa a small Tibetan City. When we do not arrive at our destination, my people will institute an air research and when they see us, a party will be sent out from our military base. Then, too," the General continued. "There are still some caravans coming from the north when they find us they will see that some of their people accompany us north. So all we have to do is to sit and wait to be rescued."
Terry put his hand in his pocket and let his hand go around the gun. His finger was on the trigger.
"The first thing I am going to do," Terry said, "Is to burn that plane so that we won't be spotted by your people from the air. Although the snow is light, it should cover up any trace of the plane before morning."
The General laughed.
"Then," Terry continued, "We will go South with a passing caravan and manage to get across the border and into India."
"How do you expect to do all this?" laughed the General.
"With this," said Terry pulling the gun out of his pocket.
The General brought the gun in his hand up quickly but before he could get a shot off, Terry blasted him between the eyes.
The General fell over backwards-dead.
Terry walked over to him and went through his pocket. Then he dragged the General's body outside of the tent and let the body roll down the incline and over the cliff.
Terry went back inside the tent. It was very warm in there and Sunda had stripped nude.
The sight of her naked body made Terry so excited that he fumbled his way out of the arctic clothing.
She was lying on a cot and he went to her and made wild passionate love to her. They were both so carried away with ecstasy that they screamed and cursed at the top of their voices.
When they were finished and Terry climbed off of her body Sunda spoke.
"You are so good, Darling. I'm so very happy that you killed General Tse. Now we can live in America or Europe ... anywhere that we want to. It is so much nicer in those places than in China.
Terry picked up a knife and walked over to where Sunda was lying naked on the cot.
She did not notice the knife in his hand.
He climbed between her legs and began to make love to her again.
She was in seventh heaven.
Then he took the knife and pressed the point into her right breast. He didn't cut all the way into her. Just about an inch and a half. She screamed in agony.
"Terry ... Terry ... What are you doing?"
She kept screaming as he began to carve a design into her right breast.
"The right breast I mutilate for Howie," Terry said, "and I carve a swastika into it for your past affiliation with the torturing nazi swine."
He finished and then sank the point of the blade into her left breast.
"I mutilate your left breast for the Turkish prisoner of war and I carve a hammer and scickle into your left breast for your present affiliation with the torturing Red Pigs."
She screamed, begged, fought and pleaded but he did not stop using the knife until the designs were carved perfectly into her once perfect breasts.
Then Terry got up and dressed. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet.
He kissed her lips and each bloody mutilated breast.
Then he emptied a water bag into a bucket and picked up the bucket. He took Sunda by the hand and pulled her, naked as she was, outside the tent.
"Terry! What are you doing? I'll freeze to death."
"The temperature here never rises above thirty degrees below zero." He said. "No one really knows how cold it does get in this area."
"Terry ... please I'll die out here in a matter of minutes without any clothes on!"
"I told you in India that I was going to kill you," he said. "I didn't think the chance would come so soon."
Her eyes grew wide as she tried to lift her feet and found that they were frozen solidly to the ice.
He splashed the water around her legs and she couldn't bend her knees.
Her lips were moving but no sound came from them.
He went back into the tent for more water. He filled two buckets and brought them outside. He had to work fast as ice began to crust at the top of the warm water almost at once.
He threw water over her belly and back. She was solid ice below her breasts and shoulder blades.
She was pleading in a soft but terrified voice. "Please Terry! Please ... Please ... Terry please!"
He paid no attention to her. He took out his knife and scraped the frozen blood from her breasts so that the swastika and hammer and scickle were plain to see. Then he stepped back, picked up the bucket and doused her breasts with water. They froze instantly.
She looked down at them groaning in pain and fear.
He threw water on her arms when she lifted them to heaven in supplication. They froze in that position.
She looked at Terry, pleading with her eyes and he dashed the rest of water over her head.
The water froze instantly. He could see her eyes through the ice, and he knew she could see him.
He watched the spark of life in her eyes for about fifteen seconds until it finally disappeared.
Terry threw some more water on her, then he went to the wrecked plane.
He set fire to the seats and went back to Sunda's frozen body and stood next to her and watched the plane burn and explode as the flames reached the fuel tanks.
Then he went into the tent and fell into a deep and restful sleep.
Terry was awakened by the sound of voices and tinkling bells. He had no idea how long he had been asleep.
He burst out of the tent to see a group of people gazing in fear at the cake of ice that surrounded Sunda's body. Her scarred breasts glistening through the ice in the light of day.
The people were taking a small caravan into India. Terry let them know that he would accompany them and that at the end of the journey they could keep all of his equipment and he would pay them too.
The trip was uneventful. He entered India with no problems. Got in touch with the nearest Consulate and he was flown to Washington via Military Transport.
He made his report about killing General Tse, but said nothing about Sunda.
He gave the micro-film to the American C.I.A. man, and it was then that they informed him that although he had saved the plans of the bomb from falling into the hands of the Chinese, the Russians had been able to get the prize.
Then he had flown back to England and many more assignments until the big goof.
The picture began to fade from the ceiling ... Terry wondered if Sunda's frozen body still stood on that lonely caravan trail.
But that was past history.
Rene was present history and she was in bed with him.
He woke her up and made love to her.