Klitzman's Paradise (The Klitzman Stories)

by Paul Blades

  The Rovers followed a single lane jungle path, obviously carved out for vehicular traffic. Dense bush surrounded it. The day was hot and the overhead foliage blocked out all air and so I immediately broke into a deep sweat. Nick’s face had several rivulets of sweat pouring down it. The road was bumpy and curved sharply right and left constantly. It was slow going and after about an hour I mustered the gumption to ask Nick what this was all about.

  The hard looking black man paused before he spoke, his eyes reflecting his annoyance and then his resignation. “Okay, Harry, if you’re going to be any kind of help at all I guess I better give you the lowdown. There’s a guy who runs a zoological research station about fifty miles from here. His name is Dr. Joel Svenberg. He and his girlfriend have been causing a lot of trouble for our friends in the government. It seems that they don’t like some aspects of the government’s domestic policy, like granting mining concessions to some of our other friends. Where there’s mines, there’s a need for labor. The government lets our friends recruit workers from some of the surrounding villages. Sometimes, the men don’t want to go. The government persuades them to do so. Sometimes heads have to be cracked. Dr. Svenberg has been making reports to the U.N. about what he calls ‘labor conditions’. It’s gotten to be a real pain in the ass. We’re going to put an end to his interference.”

  “Permanently?” I asked.

  “Yeah, permanently.” Nick answered.

  “Why doesn’t the government do it? Why do they need us?”

  “It’s all about deniability, Harry. And sometimes the government people can be unreliable. A big enough bribe will buy almost anything here. Our people are dependable and we will make sure to get the job done with minimum fuss. So just stay out of the way and everything will be all right, okay?”

  I nodded my understanding and looked off into the jungle. I wondered if this fell within Bederson’s assurance to me that any crimes I committed while in Klitzman’s employ would be forgiven. My work for Tony Bianco had consisted of mostly leaning on guys behind in their payments and laying out other bad guys who had crossed him one way or another. I looked at the two armed men in the front of the Rover and thought of the four in the Rover behind us. Whatever was going to happen would happen with or without me there. I wasn’t going to fuck with this crew just to assuage my qualms.

  We drove on for another two hours. The men had brought food and water and we ate while we rode. Suddenly, the Rover pulled over to the side and rolled to a halt. Nick barked a command in some African lingo to the other men and they hopped out checking their weapons and donning packs. “We walk from here,” was all Nick said. Leaving two of the men behind to guard the Rovers, and handing me an AK-47, Nick plunged into the jungle.

  After about an hour of fighting off mosquitoes the size of my hand, vines and underbrush determined to restrict all movement and the almost deadly, blanket like humidity, our small troupe emerged on the edge of a small compound. Nick ordered his four henchmen to circle to the other side of the compound to the right and left. We sat and waited, mercifully as far as I was concerned, since the trek through the wildly overgrown bush had exhausted me. It was about thirty minutes later that both teams reported in by radio phone. Nick gave the order and we all moved in.

  While we had been sitting on the edge of the clearing in which the compound sat, it had seemed quiet and almost devoid of humanity. I had seen an occasional native walking laconically to and fro between buildings. I had caught a glimpse of what looked like a tall brown haired European woman, dressed in khaki shorts and a white blouse. We were about two hundred yards away and I could not make out any distinguishing characteristics, but her legs seemed long and her hips narrow and graceful.

  The bucolic scene transformed itself immediately as soon as the armed men began to advance into the compound. There was the sound of screaming women and yelling men mingled with the echoes of automatic rifle fire. The occupants of the compound began to run back and forth, desperately seeking an exit from the circle of armed men. Nick motioned me to fan out and we walked slowly towards the compound, deterring anyone from escaping the narrowing encirclement by the use of the automatic rifles, firing wildly in front of them, forcing them back towards the center.

  I entered the center of the compound between two large wooden huts with thatched roofs. Two screaming native women were attempting to escape and I urged them backwards by firing into the ground. When I entered the compound center, there were about forty native men and women dressed in a bright colorful array of t-shirts, blouses, skirts and pants, screaming and crying, huddling there, being ordered to the ground by Nick’s native warriors. I did not know what Nick’s intentions were, but I sensed my entry into a whole new level of depravity as I contemplated his possible intent of mass murder.

  The hut to my right seemed to be the administrative center of the compound as it sat near the confluence of the four or five buildings and had broad, wooden steps leading up to a wide veranda. The dirt road that serviced the compound ran right in front of it and broadened into a large, dusty open square. On the front, over the entrance, was a long, broad, white sign with the name “Bwanda International Animal Research Center” on it. Nick ordered me to stand and help watch the crowd as he strode quickly up the steps. A moment later, a white man came hurtling down them, blood streaming from the side of his forehead, a smashed cell phone rolling down after him. Nick followed with the brown haired woman, his hand gripping her arm forcefully, dragging her down the steps behind him.

  The man groaned as he lay in the dust. Nick gave him a vicious kick and he groaned louder. He looked to be in his mid-forties, had sandy, short hair and gold wire rimmed glasses which were askew on his bony, thin face. He had on long khaki pants and a white shirt. The woman, as I mentioned before, had a matching white shirt and khaki shorts that descended to mid thigh and showed off her long, graceful legs to great advantage. She was screaming her protests at the abuse of her apparent mate.

  “Leave him alone, you bastard! Leave him alone!” She had fire in her eyes and her accent betrayed her as an American.

  Nick still had a vice-like grip on her arm. He had his rifle in his other hand and he looked like he couldn’t make up his mind whether to smack her with it or put it down.

  The handsome woman, who appeared to be about 35 or so, pulled at Nick’s grasp in an attempt to give succor to the man who was groveling in the dusty road. Nick finally released her arm and she fell to her knees and put her arms around the man.

  Nick looked up at me. “Harry, meet Dr. Svenberg,” he said smiling, “and his luscious assistant, Ms. Judy Meyers.” The woman looked up at him.

  “What do you want?” she shouted. “Why are you doing this?”

  Nick had had quite enough, and he slammed the butt of his rifle into the side of her head. She groaned with pain and slumped over the man.

  “Harry, take one of the men and search the other huts,” Nick ordered. I nodded to one of the tall, black, demonic looking men and we trotted off towards the other huts. The first one was empty, containing cages with various snakes and rodents. The second one was empty too. In the third hut, a slight, bespectacled black man wearing a white lab coat and jeans was cowering behind a long laboratory bench. My companion smiled as he espied him and, grabbing him by the hair, dragged him outside and threw him into the dust. He barked a command in African and the man scurried off towards the main hut where the other people were kneeling terrified in the square, their hands on top of their heads.

  While the other man ensured that the fugitive joined his companions, I entered a fourth hut. It was obviously a living quarters and there were two cots covered by white sheets, two black steamer trunks and an assortment of female garments strewn about the room. I was about to leave when a noise from under one of the cots commanded my attention. I crouched down and saw under the first cot a pretty, young woman dressed in a white t-shirt and blue jeans pressing herself against the wall as far back under the cot as she could get. She ha
d long, blond hair tied behind her head, and peered back at me with terror filled eyes. I looked under the other cot and saw another young woman. She was dressed similarly and had auburn, shoulder length hair. Her face was a mask of fear.

  “All right, ladies,” I said. “Come on out.”

  I stepped back as both young women crawled hesitatingly from their hiding places. When they emerged, I motioned for them to stand together at the rear of the hut. “Put your hands on your heads,” I ordered them curtly.

  Both girls raised their hands haltingly to the tops of their heads. The blond girl was crying. They were both desirable young women. Raising their hands had pushed their youthful breasts out invitingly.

  Now what was I going to do? Stupidly, the girls had forgone the chance to jump out of their hut’s window and take their chances in the bush. I didn’t know what fate Nick had in mind for the score of people we had captured, but I was sure that it couldn’t be good. I could think of only two possibilities. Either these young women would shortly meet their maker, undoubtedly only after serving as entertainment for Nick’s men, or they would be gathered and taken with us back to Klitzman’s island, to be trained in an entirely new profession. I had guessed that the young women were aides attached to the research station. They seemed about college age and were probably doing field work in preparation for advanced degrees. If they were lucky, they would get advanced degrees all right, but not in the skills they had signed on for.

  I looked at the window behind the girls. I considered momentarily letting them climb out and make their escape. It was about two hundred yards to the jungle. They were both wearing heavy, tan boots. They could make it. If no one saw them, they could hide out until we left. I was about to make this suggestion to them when the redhead suddenly charged me. I was taken by surprise and she bowled me over. Both girls rushed past me to the entrance to the hut. When I pulled myself back to my feet, I started after them.

  They had not gotten far. Two of Nick’s men had been approaching and I saw one holding the blond girl by her long hair, dragging her behind him, kicking and screaming. A second one was chasing the redhead and quickly caught up to her, tackling her from behind, a brilliant downfield tackle, and bringing her to the ground. They rolled around in the dusty road for a few moments and the guard emerged on top, holding the girl’s arms high up on her back, pressing her sputtering face into the ground.

  Well, they had blown it. My rifle dangled from its strap at my side as I watched the two girls being dragged over to the main hut. The guards had hold of the hair on the top of their heads and had them bent over as they pulled them along. The blond girl submitted passively, whining and pleading to be released. But the redhead fought her captor energetically, clawing at the large black fist that held her reddish brown locks captive, swearing and screaming in some foreign tongue.

  I followed the small parade back to the center of the compound, bitterly castigating myself for not speaking out quickly to the young women when I had had the chance. I had taken a few fatal moments to admire their graceful charms and that had been their downfall. Now, whatever happened to them, I would feel at least partly to blame.

  When I arrived back at the center of the compound, the Land Rovers that we had come in were pulling in. With two more armed men present, the chance that anyone of the habitants of this research station would escape had diminished dramatically.

  Dr. Svenberg and his female companion, Ms. Meyers, were kneeling at Nick’s feet. Their hands were on their heads and duct tape had been drawn across their mouths. Nick looked pleased at my discovery.

  “Good work, Harry,” he exclaimed. “I knew that we had brought you along for a reason. It seems you have a nose for female flesh.”

  I cringed inwardly at his expression of approval. But I daren’t show it. Now that there was no chance that the girls would escape their fate, there was no percentage in showing any of my moral ambivalence about what we were doing.

  The girls were shoved to the ground next to the other couple and they obediently placed their hands on the tops of their heads. Nick pulled the roll of tape from his satchel, cut off two pieces and imprisoned their lips. The auburn haired girl struggled to avoid being gagged, but a fierce cuff across her face calmed her considerably. The black laboratory assistant knelt there too. He wore a strip of shiny aluminum colored tape across his mouth that partially obscured the scruffy growth of beard along his chin. He was looking up dolefully at his captors.

  Nick stood in front of the crowd and began to speak. I couldn’t understand a single word or it, but its impact on the crowd was obvious. He waved his rifle around at the crowd, pacing back and forth in front of them. He pointed several times at the small semicircle of kneeling prisoners. The fact that he was talking to the crowd of frightened African faces gave me some relief. If he had intended to slaughter them all, there would be no point in making a speech to them.

  Nick ordered two of his men towards a pile of wooden poles that lay along the side of the main hut and they grabbed one of them and brought it out. Another man calmly walked down the semicircle of prisoners in front of the crowd and, drawing each of their arms behind them in turn, clamped hand cuffs on their wrists. Heavy manacles with a connecting 18” long chain were affixed around their ankles. All except Dr. Svenberg’s handsome, long haired, female companion.

  The two men holding the pole at each end brought it over to where the comely woman knelt. Nick slung his rifle over his shoulder and, grabbing her hands, affixed them tightly to the center of the pole with a leather thong. The woman screeched and wailed as her hands were tied off, knowing that some cruel depredation was undoubtedly in store for her. Dr. Svenberg made an effort to rise to his feet in protest, but Nick grabbed his rifle and slammed it into his head once more, causing the doctor to moan and fall to the ground, his face hitting the dust.

  In the meantime, the two men who had the end of the pole raised it high, bringing the doctor’s woman to her feet. The lithe, curvaceous woman dangled in the air between the men, her booted feet scraping the ground underneath her. Nick stood before her. His eyes were ablaze with lust. The woman looked deeply into them and her body shuddered. She began to shake her head back and forth in protest, a piteous moan escaping from behind her taped lips. Nick, having placed his rifle aside, took the front of her blouse in his hands and ripped it open.

  The woman shrieked as her dainty breasts were exposed. She was braless and the twin mounds, firm but small, peaked out at the crowd. Nick took out a large, broad bladed knife from his belt and cut away the remnants of the covering. He then stepped behind her and, reaching around her waist, undid the buckle to her shorts and pulled them, together with her plain white bikini panties, down around her ankles.

  There was a moan from the crowd as the woman’s intimacies were exposed. I had a good view, standing slightly to the side in front of her. She sported a plentiful, wiry, brown bush. Her torso was long and her belly taut. The years had been kind to her and she presented a view of delectable flesh. There was a small tattoo on her left hip, that of a rose, and it accentuated her hip’s graceful curve.

  Nick proceeded to cut the shorts and panties away from the woman’s body even as she kicked and swayed her legs in a frantic effort to avoid it. He lifted each of her feet and pulled off her ankle high, light brown work boots and frilly socks. Then he turned to the crowd once more and uttered a long string of imprecations to them, which seemed to send a message of fear.

  One of Nick’s men produced a long, thin branch that he had cut off from a nearby bush. Nick took his knife and trimmed it until it was bare. It was about three feet long and tapered from a two inch diameter to a narrow point. One of the men clamped manacles around the woman’s ankles and, pounding a stake into the ground in front of her with his rifle butt, tied the chain around it with a leather thong. The men holding the thick pole to which the woman’s writhing hands were attached, lifted it higher until the thong was stretched and the woman fully extended.

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nbsp; The two young women who I had helped capture were watching the unfolding scenario with wide, frightened eyes. The blonde was still crying and I thought that I detected glistening in the eyes of the redhead. The redhead looked at me with obvious hatred. Here I was, a white man, presumably civilized, and I was allowing this big black heathen to strip and humiliate the lanky white woman. I can’t say that I didn’t appreciate her loathing. But what was I to do? I wasn’t about to upset my applecart for her or anyone else. Besides, the woman was delightfully appealing and her helplessness and the display of her naked charms was bringing a familiar warmth to my loins.

  Nick brought his attention back to the squirming woman. He stepped up to her and ran his large black hand over her belly and then upwards to her breasts. Her nipples were stiff and swollen with fear. He took hold of her right breast and squeezed it hard, causing the distressed woman to cry out from behind her taped lips. He leaned over and placed his thick lips on her teat, sucking at it while his other hand caressed and mauled her left breast. The woman’s eyes looked up to heaven pleadingly as she suffered the man’s attentions to her coffee cup sized mounds.

  A half hour ago, this sophisticated and attractive woman was probably contemplating her afternoon tea while discussing the mundane details of the running of the compound with her mate. How quickly and unalterable a life could change. She had undoubtedly known that she and the scientist were playing a dangerous game by interfering in the local affairs of the country’s dictatorship. They probably thought themselves safe from molestation due to the doctor’s fame and notoriety. I didn’t know what worldwide repercussions would emerge from our afternoon’s intrusion in their affairs. I didn’t even know how the day would end up. But whatever Nick had in mind, no power in the world was going to be able to stop him.