by Lou Cameron
They shared a long mutual orgasm and she lay quietly in his arms for a time before she suddenly giggled and said, “I didn’t know it felt like that, back there.”
He sighed and said, “Hell, I can’t win. Don’t tell me you enjoyed that, too?”
“Well, it was exciting, in a nasty sort of way. Do you have any other tricks to teach me, darling?”
“A few. I thought you hated me.”
“Oh, but I do. Up here in my head. You beat up my lover and you’ve raped and sodomized me and I’ve never met anyone as wild and wicked before.”
Then she moved her hips experimentally and said, “But, what the hell, as long as I’m being ravaged by a brute—”
Pattycake ravaged well. Once she’d made up her mind she might as well enjoy it, she had suggestions of her own to add and they took well over an hour to wear each other sane. He could tell she was ready and willing for more when he finally rolled his feet off the bed, wiped his groin clean with the rumpled sheet, and suggested she save a little for good old Sam. She said, “That was really low.” as she stared heavy-lidded up at him while he dressed. He said, “Yeah, I’d like to stay and torture you some more, but I’d better get out of here before the real show begins.”
“Real show, darling?”
He didn’t answer. She’d lied like a pro through the whole performance and, as she must have guessed, true torture wasn’t his line. He strapped on his gun, put on his linen jacket and panama hat, and said, “It was a swell party. Pattycake, but I’ve learned, the hard way, to always leave early.”
Before she could answer, he opened the door and stepped out in the hallway, closing it on her nakedness. The thug she called Sam had come to and had managed to brace himself in a seated position against the wall. Captain Gringo nodded pleasantly to him and said, “She told me the whole story, Sam. So don’t look so anxious. I could kick a few loose ends out of you, but what the hell.”
Sam said, “Goddamn you, Walker, if you’ve harmed Patricia—”
“Right, you’ll jump up and bite my nose off, won’t you? Were you two supposed to deliver me to Greystoke or was he coming here?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sam lied.
The door behind Captain Gringo opened and Pattycake came out, still naked. Then she saw the tall American was still there and stopped, ashen-faced. Captain Gringo nodded and said, “I was just leaving. Sam told me who you’re working for, babe.”
The tied-up man on the floor shouted, “That’s a lie! He’s trying to trick you, Patricia!”
The girl stood in the doorway, no longer the least bit coy about her nudity as she said, “For God’s sake, Sam. Not another word!”
The tall American nodded and unbarred the front door before he ducked out into the dark patio with no further comment. He dropped behind a century plant and drew his revolver. But there was nobody waiting for him. He eased over to the gate and risked a peek out. The walled-in street was deserted in the moonlight. He muttered, “Delivery,” and reholstered his gun as he jogged away from Pattycake’s house, not the way he’d come.
He didn’t go back to the plaza. He and Gaston had rented a suite of rooms at the hotel near the cathedral before going out to explore the local night life. The people who’d sicced Pattycake on him might look for him near the plaza. He doubted it would take Gaston this long to pick his own companion for the night up, either.
He found his way to the alley behind the hotel and entered by the back door. The hotel had been chosen with such a move in mind. He moved quietly up the stairs, got to the right door, and pressed his ear against it as he silently slid the key in the lock. On the other side of the panel, a feminine voice was protesting in Spanish, “I could never do such a thing with another girl watching.”
That sounded like Gaston, all right. Captain Gringo unlocked the door and stepped inside. The room was dark, but he could see well enough by the light through the open window near the grass bedstead. Gaston was in the wrong bed, with two naked ladies. The little Frenchman laughed and said, “Ah, it’s about time you got home, my wayward lad! Allow me to present las Señoritas Angelita y Dolores. Señoritas, the gaping youth is the friend I told you about. Neither of you would be able to pronounce his name, but he is tres formidable, and what are the names among friends, hein!”
Captain Gringo sighed and said, “Gaston, what the fuck are you doing in my bed?”
“Fucking was the term I was groping for. As to the choice of beds, we broke the other one an hour ago.”
“You’re kidding,” groaned the American, stepping over to the doorway between their rented rooms. Then he saw Gaston’s mattress had, indeed, collapsed to the floor between broken bedsprings. From behind him, Gaston observed, “As you’ll remember, we selected the stouter looking bed for your massive frame. Alas, that other one was not designed for three people. This one, I am sure, will hold up four, if we use it crosswise.”
Captain Gringo walked back to Gaston and the girls and said, “We have to move out on the double. Greystoke’s in town.”
Gaston swore softly and said, “Greystoke, from British Intelligence? What on earth are British spies doing here in Costa Rica?”
“I don’t know, but they just tried to grab me. That girl you were so nice about pointing out to me was a plant. She tried to deliver me neatly wrapped, but they’re getting sloppy, or I’m getting better.”
He quickly filled Gaston in on his recent adventures and the Frenchman was silent, for a change, until he’d finished. But then Gaston shook his head and said, “Mais non, you are becoming, how you say, paranoid?”
“Gaston, they both had English accents. The girl tried to cover hers with some Aussie and Yank slang. When old Sam came to, he was too befuddled to sound like the American he’s pretending to be. She told him to shut up, but not before I caught his Oxford accent.”
Gaston frowned and said, “Hmm, British Intelligence does recruit its top agents from Oxford, but why couldn’t they have been a pair of common English criminals, disguising their accents to … how you say … make the red herrings? Why could they not have been mere adventurers, as they said?”
“Damn it, Gaston, you weren’t listening! I told you they knew my name, and when I threw Greystoke’s name at the one called Sam I thought he’d shit.”
“Ah, then forgive me, you are not paranoid, There really are spies after you. But it still makes no sense, Dick. Costa Rica has a stable government. What action could anyone be looking for, here?”
“Beats the shit out of me. I didn’t hang around to ask. Knowing how smooth Greystoke and his limey like to work, I gave myself time for a little counterespionage before I lit out. By now, Pattycake and Sam will be on Greystoke’s carpet for messing up. Meanwhile, we’ve got to haul our asses out of here!”
One of the whores asked, in Spanish, “For why are the two of you speaking English so rudely? Are you saying bad things about us?”
Gaston reassured her and, switching to Spanish, told Captain Gringo, “We are paid up, here, for the rest of the month. The species of insect you are so worried about does not have this address and Dolores, here, is insatiable.”
The one called Angelita said, “That’s not fair. He’s very good-looking and she’s already been fucked more than me tonight.”
Gaston said, dryly, “I stand corrected, Angelita is insatiable, too. One can only hope your misadventure with the British spy did not wear you out, my wild Yanqui bull?”
Captain Gringo said, “Goddamn it, Gaston, the last time I crossed swords with Greystoke, he tried to ship my ass back to the States for a hanging!”
“Ah, but you escaped and foiled him, non? As a matter of fact, I remember you ravaging another of his female agents that time, hein?”
“Yeah, and he’s going to be as sore as hell about tonight, too!”
“Merde alors, what do we care? Queen Victoria does not rule Costa Rica. No Englishman can arrest you here.”
“He wasn’t trying to ar
rest me, damn it! It’s the same as the last time, in Panama. British Intelligence want to shanghai me back to the States as a favor to U.S. Intelligence. Both sides have gotten thick as thieves since both the Americans and British bought into that canal company down Panama way. I think they’re both worried about the new German Kaiser, too. The Queen’s agents would do anything to butter up Uncle Sam and the U.S. Army wants me for—”
“Careful!” Gaston warned in English, adding, in Spanish, “The ladies are not interested in politics. Dolores, here, tells me she likes tall blond men no matter how big they are.”
Captain Gringo swore and said, “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve just said, you horny old goat?”
Gaston said, “I have every word engraved on my heart. But what of your own ears? The people you’re so worried about do not know we are here in this hotel, for one thing. For another, there is no better place to go. We can’t go back to Nicaragua and the, ah, climate is still hotter than I like in Panama.”
“That’s for sure, but how do you know they don’t have this hotel spotted?”
“Merde alors, they picked you up in the plaza, blocks from here.”
“How did they know we’d be in the plaza tonight?”
“How do we know they did? Whatever Queen Victoria has in mind for M’sieu Greystoke in this country, it could hardly have concerned you or me! We just got here, and your little friends have apparently been … how you say … set up for some time.”
“Hmm, you have a point there. Greystoke or one of his agents must have spotted us over at the paseo and decided grabbing me was serendipitous.”
“They might have thought it was a good idea, too. But enough. Let your British friends go on about such business as they were really sent here for, while you and I make more important decisions. Do you want to start with Angelita or Dolores. I can personally vouch for either and, of course, we can always trade.”
The one called Angelita slid out of bed and came over to Captain Gringo, stark naked, as she took him by the arm and said, “I saw him first!”
She was a pretty little thing, he noticed for the first time, and, what the hell, he wasn’t about to get Gaston out of that bed before morning.
But he was wrong.
He was saved having to make up his mind by a loud knock on the door. Gaston was already out of the bed and going for his gunbelt as Captain Gringo drew his own gun and called out, “¿Quien es?”
“Police! Open up!” replied a harsh voice from the other side of the panels.
Captain Gringo muttered, “Oh, shit!” and then, in a louder tone, he called back, “Just a minute, we have to dress.”
The mystery voice consulted with someone else in the hall before it answered, “Very well, you have exactly three minutes, señores. If you are not prepared to open up after such a generous interval, we are coming in, the hard way!”
Captain Gringo turned to see how the others were making out. Gaston had his boots, pants and gunbelt on. The rest was bundled under an arm as he helped one last naked lady out the window, carrying her own clothes and shoes. Captain Gringo called, “Just a minute.” and moved over to the window. Gaston said, “Across those tiles to the alley beyond, hein?” Then, without waiting, the little Frenchman was off and dancing across the terracotta.
Captain Gringo followed, his own heavier weight crunching the tiles alarmingly as he wondered where in hell he was going. Gaston had pointed out the rooftop just under their window when they’d checked into the hotel, but neither of them knew just who or what was under it. Ahead, Gaston swore as his own boot heel shattered a tile and nearly sent him over the edge into whatever lay below in the darkness. The two girls, running lighter as well as barefooted, were having better luck.
Behind him, Captain Gringo heard what sounded like the bite of a fire axe into heavy oak paneling. He paused and turned to cover Gaston’s and the girls’ escape. But he couldn’t tell, in the darkness, which window they’d just crawled out of. If he couldn’t see worth a damn, it hardly seemed likely the cops could. He smiled thinly and followed after the others.
He caught up with Gaston as the Frenchman was lowering one of the girls over the end of the roof. The other had already dropped into whatever. Gaston said, “I know there’s an alleyway here, but I don’t know where it leads.”
Captain Gringo saw the girl was down and moving dimly away. He said, “Anything’s an improvement. You go first. I’ll cover you.”
Gaston dropped into the darkness without comment as the tall American shot another anxious look back the way they’d just come. The cops hadn’t followed them out on the tiles. They probably had more sense.
He heard Gaston’s heels hit the gravel below, followed by a quiet curse. He reholstered his gun, sat down on the tiles, and turned to lower himself over the edge. It was black as a bitch and he couldn’t see how far he had to drop. But he let go and hoped for the best.
He fell for what seemed a mile, and then the alley floor slammed up into his boots and he sprawled in the gravel, trying to get his bearings. He staggered to his feet and then, as he looked around, he saw Gaston flat on his face and not moving.
Captain Gringo ran over to him, knelt, and whispered, “What’s the matter? Are you okay?”
Gaston didn’t answer. Captain Gringo cursed and started to pick his smaller comrade up. Started to, but didn’t make it. He sensed he was not alone and tried to duck the blow from behind, a fraction of a second too late. And then his head exploded in a galaxy of pinwheeling stars and he managed to mutter, “Shit, I’ve been sapped!” before he fell down and down into an endless sea of cold black ink.
Chapter Two
“He’s coming around,” said a distant tinny voice from somewhere among the swirling blackness. Captain Gringo moved his arms experimentally and was surprised that they still seemed to work. He decided to try his eyes. So he opened them. Then he closed them again and said, “Aw, shit, not again!”
The same voice, less tinny, now, said, Tm sorry, old bean, but you do bring these things on yourself, you know. I had to warn my people about those sudden sullen moves you’re prone to, eh what?”
Captain Gringo opened his eyes again and said, Fuck you, Greystoke.”
He saw he was seated on a leather sofa in someone’s paneled study. He wasn’t tied up. The brace of uniformed Costa Rican soldiers holding guns on him probably didn’t expect him to make any foolish moves. The British agent, Greystoke, sat a few paces away in a comfortable looking chair, smoking a cigar he’d probably given himself as a prize.
Greystoke looked more like a banker than a secret agent. He wore a fussy little toothbrush moustache and was somewhat older than Captain Gringo, albeit younger than Gaston. He wore an old school tie and used violet scented toilet water. He was probably the most dangerous man that Captain Gringo had ever tangled with, despite his prissy looks.
A second voice cleared its throat and Captain Gringo noticed for the first time that a uniformed officer was seated in another chair, further from the light. The Costa Rican’s English wasn’t very good as he observed, “So this is the notorious Captain Gringo, eh? Frankly, I am not impressed. He looks like a college boy. I was expecting something more like a one-eyed pirate, after all you told us, Señor Greystoke.”
Captain Gringo looked at the officer and said, “Fuck you, too.”
Greystoke chuckled and said, “Temper, temper. Neither of you should judge a book by its cover, eh? Captain Gringo, may I present Colonel Delgado of Costa Rican Army Intelligence? Like yourself, he is very fast on his feet and has a reputation for sudden violence, should the need arise. I was rather hoping the two of you would get on a bit better, since, after all, we are on the same side, eh what?”
Captain Gringo sat up straighter, massaging the back of his head where they’d sapped him, and growled, “What the hell are you talking about, Greystoke? Where are Gaston and the girls?”
Greystoke smiled and said, “The young ladies were sent home, older and perhaps wiser. Y
our French friend is in the next room, recovering from a more serious concussion. Apparently he lacks a certain Neanderthal quality to his skull that you seem blessed with. I assure you the doctor says he’s in no danger and he should be joining us any minute, now. I suppose you must be wondering why we sent for you?”
Captain Gringo scowled and rubbed his head again as he answered, “That’s a funny way of putting it, Greystoke. First you set me up to be sapped at Pattycake’s, and when that didn’t work—”
“Quite. I knew you’d make a break for that alley behind the hotel, so I saw no need to lose any of our police allies to your rather unpredictable temper. That was a jolly trick you played on my first two agents, by the way. I don’t think poor Patricia will be able to use the loo for a week without remembering you, fondly or otherwise.”
“Back up and get to that bullshit about us being on the same side. I’m not on your side, Greystoke. I’ve been itching to kick the shit out of you since we tangled in Panama that time!”
Greystoke sighed and said, “We were both younger then. I assumed you might be moody about past misunderstandings, so that’s why I invited you here so, well, insistently. Do you think you could manage to stand up?”
“I can if I have to. Where are you bastards taking me, to the U.S. consulate?”
“Heavens, no, the bloody U.S. Government seems rather keen on hanging you! As I was just explaining to Colonel Delgado, here, you’re far too valuable to us alive. Come, I’ll help you, if you like.”
Captain Gringo ignored the offered hand and lurched to his feet, as puzzled as he was annoyed. As Greystoke led the way into another room, Captain Gringo patted his side and muttered, “What the hell?” He was still wearing his gun!
Greystoke noted his confusion and said, “Just a gesture of confidence. The colonel’s men have orders to kill you if you misbehave.”
“I had that part figured. You sure are acting spooky, Greystoke.”
The Englishman flicked on the light in the next room and pointed at the wicked mass of oiled steel atop a packing crate as he said, “You’re a weapons officer, Walker. Would you be good enough to tell Colonel Delgado what that object is? I seem to be having a spot of trouble convincing people.”
