Nothing. He must have gone around to the back and up the fire escape outside the toilet window.
*****
A clipper snipped a group of wires.
*****
Nikita left her cane next to the bed as she crawled toward the washroom door. Through the steam drifting from the shower stall she saw a figure moving past the tiny window. I may be getting paranoid, but they are after me. The window opened a crack and a small device was tossed through. Nikita recognized it immediately. It was an electrostatic grenade. Toss it into a lake or pool and it will stun anyone within five hundred meters. Then all the assassin had to do was let the victim drown. Toss it into a tub or shower and your victim was seared to a crisp.
Nikita flattened herself to the floor and yanked the bathrobe over her head as the grenade landed in the shower stall. The released energy flashed 177
DAVID A. LLOYD
with a crack and the tiny room became a death trap. The glass shower doors splintered, sending shards of death through the misty air.
*****
DeTully dove from the fire escape as the glass from the window burst over his head. He struck the ground, rolled to his feet and sprinted around to the front of the motel. There he bounced up the stairs, taking them three at a time, then slid to a stop at Nikita’s door.
With the .38 snugly in his fist, DeTully spun and kicked the door in. Not expecting any response, he stepped into the room. Save for a chilled haze wafting a meter off the floor, a side effect caused by the electrostatic grenade, there was no movement in the room. DeTully closed the door behind him. Hidden behind the bed, Nikita fought off the chill in her bones and felt around in the haze for her cane. She knew she only had a few moments before it dissipated and she would be completely exposed. Nikita removed the Bible from her bedside table and slid it across the floor. DeTully sensed the movement and turned. The Holy Book struck his foot. DeTully looked down.
Nikita pushed off with her good leg and flung herself at the assassin. DeTully spotted the action and raised his weapon to ward her off. The barrel of the gun struck Nikita across the cheek and sent her sprawling. Nikita collided with the writing table, collapsing it under her weight. But DeTully lost his .38 in the attack, “Shit!” he hissed as the Smith & Wesson vanished into the haze. DeTully dropped to his knees and mauled the damp shag carpet for his weapon.
The sharp pain in her back fueled Nikita as she again lunged at the mysterious assassin. She landed on his back and drove his face into the shag, her fingers hunting for his eyes.
DeTully hammered his elbow into her breast. Nikita cried out. With her still clinging to his back, DeTully rose to his feet. Nikita realized she may have made a terrible error with this line of attack as he grabbed her by the collar of the robe.
Nikita prepared herself as DeTully tossed her across the room like a rag doll.
“Get the fuck off’a me!” he screamed.
Nikita collided with the television set. The picture tube imploded into tiny deadly missiles. Her robe protected her from most of the glass. 178
GREEN-EYED BURN
DeTully threw up his arms to protect his face as sparks and glass shot into the air.
With the back of her robe smoking, Nikita slowly slumped to the floor and was still.
DeTully lowered his hands and looked at the body on the floor. Streams of wispy smoke danced with the haze starting to fade.
Toast.
DeTully turned away and shuffled his feet across the carpet searching for his Smith & Wesson. That was my favorite gun. Slowly Nikita’s world of pain floated back as she felt a familiar shape press into her groin. The Russian Major opened her eyes a crack and saw her attacker shuffling around looking for something. A glint of metal nearby caught her eye. Nikita slowly reached for it, then froze and closed her eyes as her mystery man suddenly turned around.
Huh.
There was something near the body. DeTully moved closer and squatted to get a better look.
It’s her cane.
In a blur of motion Nikita snatched the bottom the cane and twisted her arm around. She cracked the assassin across the jaw with the brass headpiece. DeTully cried out and stumbled back on his haunches.
Nikita seized her advantage and rolled to her side. With his .38 in both fists she squeezed off two rounds.
DeTully screamed as the slugs tore into his legs.
Passing the weapon to her right hand and picking up her cane with her left, Nikita rose to her feet. A wild glint sparked in her eyes as she held the weapon rock steady and slowly approached with the revolver pointed between his eyes.
Panic swelled up in DeTully. Not like this! He tried to back away but the bed blocked any retreat.
“Nazi whore!” he screamed.
Nikita halted as a flicker of recollection flashed across her brow. Suddenly it was the day before she escaped. Her hands were bound, as were her feet. Her knees were fastened, holding her legs spread. Nikita was sitting naked on a damp wooden chair. Damp with her blood and filth.
The ugly man, Raymond Smyles, approached. He seized a hand full of her sweeping cinnamon hair and twisted it in his fist until she was forced to look him in the eye. His baneful smile scarred his face like the wound she 179
DAVID A. LLOYD
gave him just days before. Smyles chewed on his cigar and groped her breast,
“Like that?”
Nikita tried to twist away from his callused hands.
“Struggling only makes it worse.”
“Go to hell,” Nikita managed to utter through her fractured jaw. Smyles grunted and, with a inference of spite, pinched her nipple. Nikita groaned dolefully.
Smyles waved at another man standing in the dark. As he approached, Smyles leaned and whispered in Nikita’s ear, “You’re going’t love this, bitch.”
The man seemed to slither through the shadows. Even when he stood in a glimmer of light his face remained shadowed. She could only see his hands. He was wearing gloves. Thick, black insulated gloves.
Nikita tried to swallow but her throat was dry.
In his hands were wires. He was holding wires. Live wires. Then suddenly the shadows dropped away and in the harsh light she saw him, if only for a split second.
“Nazi whore,” he said.
That was all it took. She knew him now.
Something in Nikita’s mind snapped, “You!” she cried. Her blood burned through her veins, “It was you!”
DeTully raised his hands, “W-what?” he stammered.
“You! You did this!” Nikita shrieked.
“I didn’t do nothing!”
Nikita shot him through the left palm, “Liar!” she shrieked. DeTully screamed and doubled over. He held his bleeding hand to his chest, “Okay! Okay! Whatever it was I did it! I stole a candy bar when I was six! I kicked the puppy. Please don’t kill me!”
“You deviant!” Nikita spat, “What are you doing here?”
“I heard the fishing was good.”
Nikita shot him in the foot. “Wrong answer!”
DeTully screamed again. “Smyles! I’m with Smyles!”
Smyles! “Where is that slime?”
“I don’t know.”
Nikita shot him in the kneecap, “Next time the privates!”
“No! No! Stop! Oh God stop!” DeTully whimpered, “He’s on his way back. I don’t know what he has planed.”
She pointed the .38 at his other knee.
“I swear to God! That’s all I know!” DeTully cried.
180
GREEN-EYED BURN
Nikita determined that his answers were now reliable and stepped back toward the phone. She sat her cane down and picked up the receiver. There was no dial tone. Her eyes briefly flickered away from DeTully to the phone. The guinea hen-voiced little man flicked his wrist and a small throwing knife slid into the palm of his right hand.
Nikita saw the action reflected in the window and in a liquidized motion she turned and squeezed the trigger.
&n
bsp; DeTully’s glasses shattered in the middle and the back of his head sprayed across the bed sheets.
Nikita squeezed the trigger again and again until she emptied the weapon into DeTully’s lifeless body. Then she squeezed the trigger some more until the Smith & Wesson felt from her grasp as the strength drained from her arms.
Nikita closed her eyes and wept dry tears.
John!
Nikita’s mind snapped alert and she pushed herself toward the door, but exhaustion and DeTully’s savage attack had taken their toll on her already frail body. Pain exploded through her legs and back and Nikita stumbled to the floor.
Oblivion claimed her.
*****
The figure sat alone in the shadows and smiled.
All is going to plan. Cathy killed Stein. Couldn’t have worked that out better if I pulled the trigger myself. Cathy was mine. The moment that pig bastard fucked her he was a dead man.
Smyles may be a loose cannon, but he was putting the mission back on track. His fetishes could jeopardize my position here. I may have to do something about him.
Not yet, but soon.
DeTully’s a psychopath. That has its advantages. Miezlaiskis is a nymphomaniac. Oh well, there’s always one. She might be of some more use later.
Riel. Well, lets just say that’s a problem that’s about to be solved. The figure in the shadows plotted.
181
30
The Riel Residence
North of Cobourg, Ontario, Canada
08:01 hours 21 August, 2020
John gently tapped on the corner of the arch leading into the living area of the sleeping car. “Amber?” he whispered.
A soft moan was the reply.
John peered around the corner and found Lydia still on the hideaway curled beneath the patch-work comforter he gave her last night. Keeping her out of his bed and on the couch was difficult enough. She seemed desperate to make love. Rebounding, John suspected. He finally managed to convince her to sleep on the hideaway in the living room. That way he could lock his bedroom door. After she fell asleep John called the local police and spoke to an officer explaining how she did not want to leave or go to the hospital. They said they would send someone around later in the day. “Amber?”
There was no reply this time. John turned away.
“J-John?”
“I’m right here,” he said and stepped into the archway. Lydia shifted around beneath the comforter and propped herself upon her elbows. The comforter slid down and revealed a surplus of cleavage. She made no attempt to cover up. “’Morning,” she said.
“Good morning,” John noticed the color around her eye had started to fade, “How’s the swelling?” he asked.
“Fine. How’s yours?”
182
GREEN-EYED BURN
“Amber, I’m serious.”
She lowered her eyes for a moment.
“I have some coffee on,” John said, “I’ll get you a cup.” He then realized his body had betrayed him and quickly left.
“Damn,” Lydia hissed. She dropped back down onto the cushions and moistened her lips. She wanted him between her legs so bad she could taste it.
Lydia was getting that itch again.
*****
Sucking air through his teeth, Smyles yanked open the door to the van and climbed in with a bound and gagged Madhuri slung over his shoulder. He dumped her in a corner and sat in DeTully’s chair.
Eyes wide with fear, Madhuri watched as the ugly man lit up and cigar and inhaled deeply. “Ya’ know,” he wheezed, “These things are goin’ ta’ be the death of me,” Smyles blew a ring of blue smoke in her direction then noticed a note stuck on the corner of DeTully’s recorder. How many times do I have to tell him not to leave shit like this around. ‘Can you say incriminating evidence?’ Stupid Fucker. He pulled it down.
It read:
Yo Boss,
That Russian babe Nikita Triska showed up at Riel’s. She asked him shit about Wildman and Zada, Zid Zik, the other Russian. I’m tailing her now to finish what I started. Won’t be long. Ha-Ha! Miezlaiskis’ in there now with Riel. She used boyfriend story. (she’s in that mood again wink-wink) $50
says they’re doing the ‘wild thang’ before noon. Tape it for me. I want to hear it later. Press button # 2 on machine # 1 to hear what’s happening.
-Tul
p.s. hope you had a flight full of fun & beer.
Smyles crumpled the paper and tossed it over hand at Madhuri. It bounced off her forehead. “Two points,” he said and pressed button # 2 on machine #
1.
183
DAVID A. LLOYD
*****
Lydia, with the comforter pulled back across her shoulders, stepped behind John and gently touched his neck with her long tapered fingers. John flinched. He did not hear her enter the kitchen area.
“Oh, what’s wrong?” she purred.
John turned around and looked at her. “What? ‘What’s wrong?’ you ask. Your boyfriend.”
“Ex-boyfriend,” she interjected.
“Ex-boyfriend,” John continued, “He beat up and you won’t call the police. You won’t go to the hospital. Now here you are hitting on me. I don’t get it Amber. What are you doing?”
She closed the small gap between them and placed her hand on his chest.
“I think you’re cute.” Her index finger wiggled through his shirt and traced a circle on his chest.
“Stop it,” John said.
“Oh, but Johnny,” Lydia purred.
John grabbed her hand and yanked it away. “Don’t you ever call me that.”
For just a moment a hint of fear registered in her eyes, but the fright added fuel to her fire, “Ohhh... I struck a nerve did I?” the comforter fell to a heap at her ankles and Lydia stood before him in all her glory. “I know ways to release that tension,” she said blocking any retreat from the kitchen.
“Amber,” John released her hand and backed away until the counter dug into his back. “Please. Think about what you’re doing.”
She snarled and her eyes flashed dangerously. “C’mon stud. Let’s unload that rifle.”
*****
Smyles hooted with laughter. “Shit. I wish I had a camera in there.”
Madhuri watched the ugly man and feared she could not remain conscious much longer. Sweat dampened her brow as Madhuri’s blood sugars increased. A red light flashed on the panel above Smyles. He pressed the button below it and started flipping switches.
*****
184
GREEN-EYED BURN
John managed to duck around Lydia as the phone in the living area chimed. It only sounded once but John picked it up regardless. “Hello?” There was no image on the video screen, or a dial tone. John listened for a moment then gently replaced the receiver.
“Johnny….”
John steeled himself for a moment then turned and faced Lydia. She sashayed toward him with her breasts cupped in her hands. “C’mon big guy. Don’t ya’ wanta’ squeeze one off between them?” Her tongue flickered across her left nipple. “Ohww, you know you wanta’ do the bone dance.” Lydia threw her arms around his neck, pressed her breasts to his chest and kissed him passionately.
John remained unresponsive.
“Baby,” she cooed, her tongue prying at his lips. “It could be like some fantasy you once had.”
It all fell into place.
A chill shot up John’s spine. He grabbed her forearms and shoved her away, “What did you say?” he snapped.
“Uh, what?” Lydia stammered.
John held her arms like a vice. “What the hell did you just say?”
*****
“Goddamnit! Shit!” Smyles growled and slammed his fist on the arm of the chair, “Sheeeeeiit. Shit, shit, shit!” He looked at Madhuri. “Cover’s been fucked!” Smyles drew his .357 and thumbed off the safety. Madhuri let out a muffled cry.
Smyles glared down at her, “Daddy’s a comin’ home, baby!” he s
eized Madhuri by the hair and dragged her from the van.
*****
“You’re hurting me,” Lydia said.
John flung her onto the couch.
“So you like it rough,” she bared her teeth like a cat and hissed. “I can deal with that.”
“No more crap!” John demanded. “Who the hell are you?”
She hissed again and slipped from the couch like a panther in heat. “Let’s do it right here. I’m wet for your meat.”
185
DAVID A. LLOYD
John grabbed her arm and pulled Lydia to her feet. “No more games!” He pushed her into the couch again, “Who the hell are you?”
“She has gone by several names in the past few years I’ve forgotten most of them, so I just call her ‘horny as hell.’”
John turned and faced the amoral smile of Raymond….
“Smyles.”
The ugly man stood in the doorway with his scarred face aglow with delight. “She works for me.”
“Smyles,” John said again. The name burned through the air like a vile wind, “You bastard.”
His diamond sparkled.
John clenched his fist and stepped toward the rogue agent.
“Oh,” Smyles smirked with wide eyed playfulness, “Looky here,” he yanked Madhuri into view, “I’ve brought a date.”
John halted.
Madhuri mumbled beneath the gag as tears flowed down her face.
“Smyles. You son-of-a-bitch!” John cursed.
“Temper, temper,” Lydia said as she finished buttoning up her blouse. She moved around John and stood at Smyles’ side.
John looked at her. “That was you…before— wasn’t it?” The memory of his ordeal when chained to the wall still danced across his mind when he least expected it.
“You remembered?” Lydia said. She raised her finger to her lips and coated the tip with saliva.
Smyles grinned, “It’s too bad you didn’t go for the gusto right here Riel. She’s really quite good.”
“I have standards,” John replied. He smiled inwardly as Lydia’s expression soured.
“Whatever,” Smyles said and shoved Madhuri into John’s arms. John caught Madhuri and held her steady. Her eyes were rolling and he realized her sugars must be high. She was going to need insulin. John brushed the sweat and tangled hair from her eyes as he eased her to the floor. He then looked at Smyles. “Why? Why bring her into this?”
Green Eyed Burn Page 18