The Executioners

III

My bruised, battered body needed sleep, and it drank up the hours the way parched soil drinks up the rain. I don't usually dream, but I had brief moments of seeing molten rivers of copper cascading after me as I ran down an endless passage. By mid-morning I forced myself to get up. Aching plenty and steeling myself against the pain, I limbered up my stiffened muscles until I could at least move them freely. If I wasn't awake when I reached Major Rothwell's office, Mona took care of that. In a dress of shimmering light green jersey, with her red hair, she was as gorgeous as a sunburst. Her breasts thrust forward, a proclamation of their own. The Major was stuffing some papers in a brief case and paused to greet me effusively.

"Glad you've come, Carter," he said. "I have to attend a meeting in Victoria. Be back in a day or two — maybe three. Mona will see that you get whatever you want."

I kept a straight face as I watched the smile whisk across Mona's lips and disappear instantly. "Did you find anything in the records yesterday?"

"Kind of," I said. "I had a full evening last night." I sat down and briefed him on what had taken place, telling him about Judy's part as an apparent contact girl, but leaving out her agreement with me. I wasn't being protective. All those humanitarian instincts had been discarded a long time ago. Being a good Joe and staying alive are very often diametrically opposed, in this game. But Judy Henniker was my own private lead, and it was a rule of mine, learned the hard way, that you always kept your leads to yourself until you were positive of everybody and every place. You always held back a little — and I was holding back Judy's private understanding with me.

When I'd finished my story, the Major was gray and shaken, but he left wishing me the best of luck in my investigation. His eyes were tired, mirroring the heaviness inside him, and I knew what he was feeling. He was deeply disturbed by the thought that his country could be so thoroughly infiltrated by enemies. I didn't tell him not to take it too hard. Perhaps it was good for them all to be shaken up. But I knew that a top espionage outfit could infiltrate anything. It was your counterespionage work that determined how far they got. I turned to Mona after the Major left and found her eyes were playing a cool obbligato to her questions.

Isn't it possible that John Dawsey was killed for very personal reasons?" she asked. "Suppose he had gotten involved with narcotic smuggling or crooked gambling?"

I had to admit that there were those possibilities and they weren't that far out either. Dawsey could have gotten into some big money in underground operations and he was afraid my snooping might uncover it. When he called his pals they decided to play it safe and shut him up altogether. Of course, they had to do the same with me when I stumbled onto them. It was perfectly plausible. I just wasn't buying it. But I had to go along with her. Besides, I didn't want to skewer that national pride which made Mona, even more than the Major, unwilling to admit any weaknesses.

"Get me Lieutenant Dempster's base commander," I said. "I want Dempster at the base for an interview. Maybe I'll be able to answer some of your questions better afterwards."

But I was out of luck. After nearly an hour of phone calls and red tape, Mona told me that Dempster was away on leave. He was due back in two days.

"Have the base commander call me the minute they know Dempster will be arriving," I said. "Then get your Naval Operations Chief on the wire. I want to question Burton Comford."

"Look, Nick," Mona said. "You had a bloody rough night and you're damn well banged up now. Why not knock off on this a bit? Just come up to my place for drinks and dinner and relax. You need it, I'd say."

"The naval base, gorgeous," I said. "I couldn't relax now, not until I get a few more answers."

She sighed and made the call, going through the various channels of Navy red tape — poised, efficient, one helluva beautiful woman. I watched her, hearing half the conversations she held and then, finally, she put down the phone, and there was expression of triumph in her eyes.

"The man you want, this Burton Comford, was reassigned to the harbor patrol operating out of Innisfail," she said. "Innisfail is just up the coastline, perhaps hour's drive from Townsville or a bit more. The harbor patrol is really a coastal watch, small vessels that see to all kinds of coast-wise problems. Comford is on duty now. He'll be coming in at the end of the shift, midnight tonight. I left word that he is to report to the commander's office and that you'd be there."

"Midnight, eh?" I grunted. "I guess that's it, then."

"That's it." She smiled smugly. "And now as there's nothing you can do but wait, you can have cocktails and dinner at my place while you're waiting. You can leave in plenty of time. The coastal is a fast one and leads right into harbor patrol base."

I grinned at her. "You're not only beautiful, you're persistent," I said. "And you're not only persistent, you have the luck of the gods on your side. Let's go."

I watched Mona get her things and then she was beside me, her arms linked into mine, the side of her breast brushing lightly against my arm as we walked out to where the little Anglia was parked. I was feeling on edge and itchy and I knew why. I hated delays and I'd had two of them, one on top of the other. Something unexpected could always happen with delays, and the fact that there wasn't a damn thing I could do about these two didn't really help. I was anxious as hell to pump questions into the Air Force lieutenant and the radarman. I didn't want to wait two days, or even five hours. But I had to, dammit. I swore under my breath.

As I looked at Mona walking beside me, I knew that the restless fire inside me would erupt to engulf her if she played games. She was one gorgeous piece of woman, and her eyes were provocative as hell, but she was Major Rothwell's assistant and I didn't want to start something sticky. But, I mumbled to myself, this is no night to play with matches.

Mona's apartment was comfortably furnished, with a nice long sofa and uniquely shaped coffee table. The decor was white and red, with matching red sofa and draperies, two large white stuffed chairs offering contrast. Mona showed me her liquor cabinet and asked me to make drinks while she changed. 1 had martinis ready, very cold and very dry, when she came out in black slacks with a white jersey top that caressed her breasts. She started dinner during the first martini and came out to sit with me during the second.

"Were you born here in Queensland?" I asked her.

"I was born in Hong Kong," she answered. "Daddy was a major in the British army, and we were stationed in Peking for a while too. Of course, that was all before the Communists took over."

"What is someone as beautiful as you doing unmarried?" I asked, and quickly apologized for the question. "I don't mean to be crude but hell, I thought the Aussies were good judges of women."

She laughed and had me make us another round. "I've only been here for three years," she said. "Until I got here I was in England, mostly, and all those narrow-hipped, thin English girls made me feel out of place. I kept to myself a lot. But I like it better here."

It was an answer that didn't really answer my question, but I didn't press further. Mona's eyes were roving over me as she paused to drain her martini.

"Do you believe in instant attraction, Nick?" she asked, leaning back on the sofa.

"You mean some kind of immediate chemical interaction between two people?" I queried. "I believe in it. I've had it happen to me."

She sat up and leaned forward, her face only inches from mine. "So have I," she said. "The first moment I saw you." Her lips, full and moist, sent out their own invitation as she stayed there, in front of me, not making a move, just sending out heat waves. I leaned forward and my lips found hers — I felt her mouth open at once, her tongue at the ege of her teeth, waiting to leap forward. We kissed without touching bodies, arms at our sides, like two serpents moving together in a swaying rhythm. Suddenly she pulled away.

"I smell something burning," she said and dashed into the kitchen.

"You sure do, honey," I muttered quietly to myself. "And it's me." A clock struck, soft chimes, and I watched its pendulum swing hypnotically. It was an old-fashioned piece, painted white, which rested on the mantle with a vase of red roses on each side.

"Dinner is ready," I heard Mona call from the other room and I went in. She was serving dinner as though we'd never kissed, as though that moment of electricity had never exploded. It was only when I caught her eyes that I knew the current was still there. She looked away quickly, as though she were afraid the spark might catch again, and she kept a steady chatter of pleasant conversation going through dinner. She served a nice Australian sauterne with chicken which bad a pleasant taste to it. After dinner, a good Spanish brandy, a Domecq, with real body and aroma. We went into the living room to have the brandy and I had just about decided that she'd been saved by the bell. She saw me glance at the clock on the mantle. It read eight o'clock.

"If you leave here at ten-thirty you'll easily make it," she said, reading my thoughts. I grinned at her and suddenly the electricity went on in her eyes again. They held mine and never wavered as she drained the brandy.

Suddenly she threw herself forward, arms clasping my neck. Her mouth was working feverishly on mine, nibbling, devouring, her tongue stretching deep into my mouth. And then all the restless itching frustration burst inside me and I answered her feverish hunger with my own.

Mona's white jersey blouse was a ghostly flash as it flew over her head and her breasts, freed from the bra, spilled over into my hands like ripe fruit falling from a tree, made to be tasted and sucked and savoured. She had reached out an arm and flicked off the lamplight and we made love in the half-light thrown from the adjoining room. Mona turned her breasts up to me, and I seized their pink tips with my teeth. The pink circle of her breasts was large and rough and I felt the nipple grow tall in my mouth as Mona gasped in pleasure. I stripped, putting Wilhelmina and Hugo under the couch within a moment's reach, while Mona lay before me, eyes closed, as I gently massaged her breasts. Her body was like her breasts, full and ripe, with a firm, convex belly and wide, deep hips. As I pressed myself down upon her she moaned and began to make convulsive movements, thrusting every inch of herself against me, trying to make her skin my skin, her throbbing desires into my desires. I moved my lips down along her body and she cried out in a steady, mounting gasp that culminated in a scream of ecstasy as I found the center of her pleasures, the core of all desires. Her hands pulled against my shoulders, my head, and she was a creature beyond all caring except for that ecstasy of the body. I moved upon her again and this time I came to her with my own very being and Mona's body moved under mine in a slowly mounting frenzy.

I moved her slowly, slowly, holding back as she cried out for haste, knowing she would thank me for ignoring her. And then, her passion carrying me beyond control, I took her. Mona cried out at that moment of moments with a series of gasps — unbelieving, unwilling gasps — the final, ultimate submission of the female to the male and to herself. She fell back on the sofa, her arms around me, her legs clasped behind mine.

I raised myself on one elbow and glanced at the clock on the mantle. It said nine-fifteen. In passion, no man keeps track of time. An hour is a minute and a minute is an hour. Mona pulled my head down to her breasts, pressing my face into them.

"You have time," she whispered. "Till ten-thirty. I want you again, now. This time I want to make love to you."

"People make love to each other, together," I said.

"Yes, but this time I want to light the fire," she breathed. She moved to my side and I felt her lips against my abdomen. She moved them up and over and across my chest — faint, sweet tracks, like the footprints of a butterfly. Then she moved down my body, pausing to linger on the curve of my abdomen, and then down further. It was a kind of lovemaking I'd found only in the Orient, and it had an exquisite pleasure that was both soothing and exciting. Dimly, I wondered where she had learned it. Or perhaps there are some things with some women that spring into being naturally — unlearned, untutored, an innate talent beyond the average. She had wanted to light the fire. She did a damn good job of it, and we made love again, the gasping feverishness of her desires showing no slackening. But finally the moment was reached again, and in her gasps, this time, there was a kind of laughter, the happiness of a completely satisfied woman.

I stretched when Mona finally unwrapped her arms from around me. I glanced up at the clock. It read nine-fifteen. I looked at it again, my eyes narrowed, squinting. The hands didn't change. I had read right. It said nine-fifteen. I leaped from the sofa and felt for my watch. I'd put it alongside Wilhelmina. It read eleven-twenty.

"What is it, Nick?" Mona said, sitting up as I let out a curse.

"Your goddamn clock," I yelled at her as I flew into my clothes. "It's stopped. The damn thing was probably slow in the first place."

The longest pause in my dressing was to strap Hugo's sheath back onto my forearm and that took not more than two seconds. I was still putting my shirt into my trousers as I went out the door and still swearing. Mona, naked and magnificent, was standing in the doorway.

"I'm sorry, Nick," she called after me. "Stay on the shore road. You'll go right into it."

Delays, I cursed as I dived into the driver's seat. They always spell trouble. I knew what Mona was thinking, standing there nude. If I missed him, I could get to him in the morning. But I didn't think that way and I didn't operate that way. I'd seen too many times when there was no tomorrow.

I sent the little Anglia off in the closest approximation of a jet take-off a car can make. The shore road was almost free of traffic, the moon shining over the sea was a beautiful sight. I kept the speedometer needle plastered against the top of the instrument. It took quite an effort to keep the light little car on the road. Though largely flat and mostly at sea level, the road did rise a few times, making the car throb and vibrate as I forced the engine to its limits. I ate the road up in a furious, headlong pace and still the time seemed to drag.

It was a little after twelve o'clock when I roared into the little community of Innisfail. Right away I saw the low, gray buildings of the coastal patrol with the sentries pacing the entry gate. I halted and showed my credentials and was passed through. I'd gone only a few hundred yards when I saw the flashing lights of police cars and heard the whine of an ambulance siren. Pulling to the side of the road, I got out. The base command building was just ahead and I paused at the steps of it to look down the street as the knots of men parted to make way for the small, white ambulance.

"What happened?" I asked a passing sailor.

"Accident," he said. "One of the blokes just come ashore, too. Bloody rotten deal, it was. He was killed."

A sudden chill swept through me and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"What was his name?" I asked. "Comford? Burton Comford?"

"Yes, that's the chap," the sailor said. "Did you know him, mate? They're just taking him off now."

"How did it happen?" I asked, hearing the grim anger in my voice. The sailor pointed to a big personnel carrier that stood with its radiator smashed into the side of a brick building.

"That big job there, mate," he said. "It was parked up on the hill. The brakes gave way and it rolled down to smash the poor bloke against the building just as he was going past. Rotten bit of luck, I say."

I walked away. There was no more reason for me to stay. I didn't need to examine the brakes of the big lorry. They'd work perfectly. Once again, they'd gotten there before me, this time helped by luck. There'd be a minor inquiry and once more there would be no explanations that meant anything. The truck's brakes had just released, somehow. It would be surmised that they hadn't been put on correctly and suddenly gave way. Only they'd done so just as Burton Comford was on his wav to the commander's office to meet me. A coincidence. Just one of those things. I knew better.

Damn Mona's stinking clock, I cursed silently. Had I been here on time I'd have been at tie dock, waiting for Comford. I got back in the car and drove out of the small base. There was only Lieutenant Dodd Dempster left now. But I'd get to him first, I swore. I felt cheated, conspired against by rotten luck. Even the memory of Mona's passion couldn't wipe the bitter taste from my mouth. When I got back to the little cottage I was still furious, furious and angry at everything — at the world, at my lousy luck, at myself, at Mona's clock. Hell, I told myself, the damn thing probably stopped from being in the same room with Mona and me. Overheating. I went to sleep angry, and I knew I'd get up that way.