by Nick Carter
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.
IV
I was right The grim anger in me had hardened overnight and when I went to Major Rothwell's office I got the airbase number and made the call myself. I told the base commander who I was and what I wanted and the telephone line fairly smoked with the tight fury in my voice.
"I want to know exactly when this Lieutenant Dempster is going to report for duty, Commander," I said. I'll be there to meet him, but just in case, I want him given an escort from his house or wherever he's coming from to the base."
"Most unusual, Mr. Carter," the commander had grumbled.
"This whole business is most unusual," I answered. 'Tour Lieutenant Dempster is very valuable to me at the moment. I don't want anything to happen to him."
"He's due to report in for flight duty at eight A.M.," the senior officer said. "I have a report that he returned from leave this morning and is at his apartment."
"Have him escorted wherever he goes until he checks in tomorrow morning," I said. "If you need any further clearances, I'll turn you over to Major Rothwell's assistant."
I handed Mona the phone and she verified my priority demands and finally put the phone back in its cradle. Her eyes were boring into me.
"All right, let's have it," she said. "You storm in here, start making your own contacts and hardly say a word to me. Isn't it the girl who's supposed to be upset and filled with second thoughts the next morning?"
Tm sorry," I relented. "It's just what happened last night. I'm still angry as hell about it." I told her what I'd found when I reached the harbor patrol base and her eyes softened.
Tm sorry," she said. "I guess I am to blame, in a way. It was my clock that did it" She got up and came over to me and I found her arms around my neck, her breasts pressed against me. "But it was wonderful, Nick," she said. "Really wonderful."
With her body pressed against mine, her deep breasts softly pushing against me, the night flooded back to me. It had been wonderful. She was a creature of rare passions and talents to match. The phone rang, breaking the gathering force of the moment. Mona picked it up and then handed it to me. "For you," she said and I saw the curiosit
y in her eyes. I recognized little Judy's voice at once."
"I thought of something." she said. "It might be important. John Dowsey had a wife. She lives here in Townsville. He told me about her. said they were separated and she used her maiden name, Lynn Delba."
"Good girl," I said. "I'll be in touch." I put down the phone and recalled Dawsey's service record in my mind. There had been no mention of a wife in it. I found a listing for a Lynn Delba on the other side of Townsville in the phone book and started out of the office.
"I'll be back," I said to Mona. "I might have a new lead."
"Not so fast," she said. "If you get delayed, please come to my place tonight."
Her eyes were adding their own meaning to her words. I brushed her lips quickly with mine and went outside. If I did go to Mona, later, I knew one thing in advance. I was going to be at the airbase at eight tomorrow morning and Cleopatra, Helen of Troy and Madame DuBarry wouldn't stop me.
I drove into Townsville, skirted the edge of the big copper-smelting refinery and found the address on the other side of town. It was an area of small, two-story brick apartment houses. Lynn Delba lived in a ground-level flat. I rang and a woman in a faded housecoat answered. Quite a bit younger than I'd expected, she was mousey blonde with a washed-out look about her. Her eyes, a light blue, looked at me with unabashed interest but there was wariness in them, too. The housecoat, the front zipper open more than a quarter of the way from the neck, revealed that she had long, thin breasts and no bra on.
"Sorry to bother you," I smiled at her. "I want to talk to you about John Dawsey."
The expression of faint boredom in her eyes suddenly and abruptly changed. "What about him?" she said defensively.
"He's dead," I said flatly and saw what little color she had drain out of her face. Her hands, holding the door, grew white as she clutched the door tightly.
"Maybe you better come in," she said quietly. I followed her into a somewhat worn, faded apartment, very much like her in its own way.
"I'm working with Australian Intelligence," I said. "I've been told that you're his wife."
She shook her head and sat down on the edge of a stuffed chair. Her legs were a surprise, long and beautiful, with slowly tapering calves and delicate ankles. No doubt she knew they were her best feature because she revealed a good bit of them. "I know he used to say that sometimes," she answered. "But I wasn't his wife, not really. I guess you could say we lived together for quite a few years, at least whenever he was off duty. Then I called it quits. Only he wouldn't believe me."
"How long ago was this?" I asked.
"Maybe six months ago," she said. "Then after he got in trouble in the army over that accident and was dismissed, he came here to live with me but I threw him out. He told me he was onto something where he'd make big money."
"Did he tell you anything about it?" I pressed.
"No," she answered quickly. Almost too quickly, I felt. "All he said was that we'd have everything I always wanted, all the things he never could give me. I promised to go back with him if he were telling the truth."
"And he never told you who he was involved with or what it was?"
She shook her head and her eyes were a mixture of sadness and apprehension. "No, she said. "But I never figured it was something he'd get himself killed over. It makes me scared, mister."
"Why?" I asked quickly, watching her eyes as she answered.
"Maybe he told whoever killed him about me," she said. "Maybe they think I know something about what he was into."
"I doubt it" I told her. She was biting her lower lip and her eyes were round and worried. She was scared, all right, and maybe it was for the reasons she'd said. But maybe it was for other reasons. I decided that if Lieutenant Dempster didn't show any cracks, Lynn Delba might bear further watching. "Don't try hiding out," I said to her. "I'll want to be talking to you again."
I left and drove to Judy Henniker's place. She wouldn't be at The Ruddy Jug yet — it was a little early for her to start work. She answered the door in shorts and a halter top.
"Come in," she said, her eyes lighting up.
"Did you find his wife?"
"I found the woman he'd been living with," I answered. Judy hadn't put all her makeup on yet and once again she looked younger, fresher — her high, round breasts very girlish and virginal.
"I just came by to say thanks for the lead on Lynn Delba." I grinned at her. "You've got a leg up on that visa to the States."
She chuckled happily and looked up at me, her eyes searching mine. You're really a good chap, Yank," she said.
"Not really," I said. "If you're holding out on me, you'll find that out." Her eyes clouded at once and she looked away. I wasn't at all certain how much Judy had told me of what she really knew. I'd keep dangling the bait in front of her. It might pay off, eventually. If I read the smoldering, masked fire in her eyes correctly, perhaps there was another kind of bait I could use on her.
"'I'll be in touch, Judy," I said. "Keep remembering things." I turned to go and her hand was on my arm.
"Be careful," she said. She sounded like she meant it. I patted her cheek and left. Mona would be at her place now, I saw by my watch. I drove there and she greeted me in a silk robe. The thrusting points that pushed the fabric sharply out told me she hadn't a damn thing under it. I kissed her and my hands told me I was right.
"Stay here tonight, Nick," Mona said. "You're only twenty minutes from the airbase here. I'll drive you out in the morning."
I had been about to say no to her but suddenly that seemed like a lousy idea. Only this time I'd go by my own watch. I moved my hands down the neck of the silk robe and it fell open. I bent down and buried my head in those great, soft pillows. I didn't really come up for air until sometime near midnight. We went to bed formally then, to sleep, and I slept well with Mona in my arms. But I'd set my inner alarm clock and I woke up on the dot of seven. Mona pot up sleepily, and peered at me as I dressed.
"I'll drive myself out to the base." I said. "You go back to sleep. You'll only have to turn right around and come back again anyway. This could be a while."
She nodded and lay there, watching me shave. When I was ready to leave got up and went to the door with me, beautifully naked. Her eyes, as she watched me go, were a mixture of undecipher able thoughts, but they glowed with a strange intensity. She was, I decided again as I drove off, a most unusual creature.
I was waiting at the base when Lieutenant Dodd Dempster arrived. He was tall, blond and handsome, but there was also self-indulgence in his face, a just-beneath-the-surface weakness. He was also nervous as all hell.
"I know you've been asked a lot of questions during the inquiry on the beachhead tragedy," I began. "But my government has a few more. In fact, Lieutenant, I've been involved in certain other aspects of a broader picture. How many times have you been at The Ruddy Jug?"
The question took him off guard and his eyes looked at me quickly. I didn't wait for an answer but pressed further.
"We know you've been there so there's no need lying about it," I said. "Who were the men you met there? What did they want of you?"
The man glanced nervously about the room where we'd gone to talk, an officers' lounge.
"Look, I've been waiting for all this to come out sooner or later," he said. "And there's a lot I'd like to tell. I just can't keep it bottled up any more. But I won't talk here. Let's get away from here and maybe we can make a deal."
The deal part was strictly out, I knew, but I let him think differently. "I'll listen," I said. "Where do you want to go?"
"I'm supposed to take this jet out for a practice flight," he said. "It's a two seater. Why don't you come with me and we can talk in the plane."
"I guess you can't get much more private than that," I said. "I'll suit up with you. Let's go."
I wasn't letting him out of my sight, not for a single minute. In the pilot's wardroom I found an extra suit that I could struggle into and I followed Dempster out to where
a jet, a new and advanced version of the Hawker-Siddley, waited on the runway. Dempster took the controls and we streaked skyward. In seconds, we were moving across the horizon. Dempster began to talk, his voice agitated.
"I got into something," he said. "And I want out. But I want to protect myself, too."
"Suppose you start with some answers first," I said. "You were put in contact with some men. Who were they and where did they come from?"
"I never knew more than their first names," he replied. "But they operated out of a ranch in the outback. I was there three or four times for conferences. I could fly you over the place if you like."
"Go ahead," I said. "I'd like that very much." I was beginning to feel elated. A few of the breaks were going my way for a change. Dempster had obviously been hiding from the inevitable for some while and was ready to stop running.
"They wanted you to wreck the war-games maneuvers," I said. His silence was more revealing than anything he might have said. Finally he spoke.
"I can't name names because I don't know them," he asserted. "But I can lead you to them. It's up to you to do the rest."
"You just point out that ranch for me," I said. "You didn't really seem surprised when I showed up. Why?"
"I guess I've been expecting it ever since the inquiry" he answered. "I didn't really think they'd close the books on it." He lapsed into silence again and I looked down at the dry, arid, parched land of the outback. It was land that had become a vast dustbowl, forbidding, seldom explored by white men. Only the aborigines, one of the oldest nomadic races in existence, seemed able to live off the arid land. Poor soil conservation practices had done their share, but years of drought had done more. It was a flat land, with occasional great meteoric rock formations dotting the vast reaches. On the fringes some hardy pioneers managed cattle but in the heart of it there was nothing but the parched land, the winds and the aborigines. I looked at the vast territory as it rushed by beneath our wings. It was red-brown country with the ridges of the mountains like corrugated cardboard. The very air seemed to shimmer from the unceasing heat of it, the burning sun turning it into a vast oven. It was a forbidding and frightening land and I knew that from the jet, streaking high across it only a vague idea of its awesomeness came through.
