by Len Levinson
Stealthily he made his way across the deck and down the ladder well to the deck where his cabin was. Entering his cabin, he locked the door, put on the light and sat down heavily on his bunk. He took out a cigarette and lit it, inhaling the rich poisonous smoke deep into his lungs. The deed was done.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The Laurel Canyon sailed through the Panama Canal and down the western coast of South America. On Wednesday afternoon it entered the port of Halvados City, and by 1600 hours was tied up at a pier. The captain gave everybody a forty-eight-hour pass, and Butler was one of the first sailors to head for the gangplank. First Mate Stearns was there, checking the ship’s roster.
“Hiya, cookie,” Stearns said.
“Hi.”
“I can recommend the whorehouse on the Calle Marimba. And they don’t cut the liquor.”
“I’ll check it out.”
Butler went down the gangplank and walked past the stacks of cargo to the gate. A customs official was there and Butler opened his bag, but the customs man waved him by.
Butler walked in the waterfront district until he found a cab; then he told the driver to take him to a street corner a few blocks from the building where the Institute maintained its local offices. Upon reaching that destination, which turned out to be the site of a department store, Butler paid the driver and got out of the cab. He wandered into the department store, which reminded him of Macy’s in New York, left through another door, and walked quickly to the Institute building. He took the elevator upstairs and walked into the office.
Nora C. Morrissey was seated at the receptionist’s desk. Her eyes goggled when she saw Butler enter and she followed him back to the office of the director, Ames. Other Institute members saw Butler and came out of their offices to follow him.
Ames’ office door was open and Butler walked in, followed by Nora C. Morrissey and the other people. Ames, his lips trembling, stared at Butler. “How’d it go?” Ames asked cautiously.
Everyone looked at Butler, anxious about the nuclear doom that hung over all their heads.
Butler shrugged and smiled. “Mission accomplished,” he said.
Everyone jumped up and down joyfully. The men kissed the women and all the women kissed Butler. Bottles of whisky appeared and toasts were drunk to Butler, who accepted their accolades modestly, while casting admiring glances at the svelte form of Nora C. Morrissey.
Finally Ames asked everyone except Butler to leave his office. They did so, and Butler sat on the chair opposite Ames, taking out a cigarette.
“You’re sure the bomb can’t go off?” Ames asked, leaning forward and folding his hands.
“I threw the detonator into the Gulf of Mexico.”
“Nobody suspects anything?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Good. But our worries aren’t completely over. Headquarters feels, and I concur, that when this atom bomb fails to explode on target, Hydra will merely send another one down here.”
“You’ll have to put another agent on the boat,” Butler said.
“Maybe they’ll send it down by plane next time, and probably they’ll guard it better. No, headquarters has decided that the only way the danger can be eliminated in this country is to have the guerrillas overthrow the military regime. Then Hydra won’t be able to use this country for its insane scheme to launch a nuclear holocaust against the world.”
“They’ll find another country.”
“You’re probably right, but we can only deal with them one country at a time. Now, as it turns out, the Pisco regime has set itself up beautifully to be overthrown.” Ames stood and pointed to the map of Halvados on the wall behind his desk. “In the jungle of Iquitos Province here the regime is preparing a vast observation area, so the leaders can see the nuclear blast in the Sierra Chorino Mountains. All the maniacs will be there, including Phillip Noble himself. Headquarters thinks the guerrillas ought to attack the observation area at the moment the bomb is dropped. They should be able to capture all the leaders of the regime and all the local Hydra people and their sympathizers in one fell swoop. Then freedom and justice can come to Halvados at last.”
“How do you know where this observation post is?”
“Our spies have told us, and we’ve seen it from the air.”
“Do the guerrillas know?”
“We don’t believe so. We dare not communicate with them by radio because we’re afraid the government’s direction finders will locate us. Therefore we’ll have to bring the message to them directly.” Ames scratched his nose. “Will you go?”
“Sure, but I don’t know the way.”
“Our usual liaison with the guerillas has been Nora C. Morrissey. She can take you there, and we can send along a few others for protection.”
Butler shook his head. “The fewer who go the better. We’ll attract less attention that way.”
“If you wish. When can you leave?”
“Right now.”
Ames looked at his watch. “I’ll make all the arrangements. Why don’t you go to the cafeteria and get a cup of coffee?”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
At two o’clock in the afternoon a maroon Cadillac Seville sped out of Halvados City. Behind the wheel was Ames; beside him was Butler. In the back seat was Nora C. Morrissey, and in the trunk of the car were two backpacks containing maps, supplies, portable radios and so forth.
The three of them were dressed in business suits and to an observer they looked like ordinary American business people who were robbing the country blind. Throughout the rest of the afternoon they passed through the suburbs of Halvados, then entered the vast pampas for which the country was so justifiably famous. Next came a winding road through the jungles of Halvados, and finally, at around nine-thirty in the evening, they came to the foothills of the Sierra Chorino Mountains.
Ames stopped the car and they all got out. They were in a high-altitude forest area and insects were chirping in the bushes. From afar the howl of a wolf could be heard.
On opposite sides of the car, Butler and Nora changed into blue jeans, safari jackets and mountain boots, while Ames gazed at the full moon in the sky, his hands behind his back.
When Butler and Nora had finished changing clothes they went to the trunk and put on the backpacks. They wore belt holsters that held Colt 45s, and each wore a compass on a lanyard around the neck.
“Well, good luck,” Ames said, shaking hands. “It’s all up to you two now.”
Butler and Nora watched the car drive away; then they looked at each other and moved toward the woods.
“I’ll lead the way,” Nora said.
“By all means do,” Butler replied.
They trudged over a path that steadily gained in altitude, crossing streams and going up and down hills. Frequently Nora stopped to take azimuth readings from the stars. The hills became steeper and more rocky, vegetation more sparse. Birds shrieked in the trees and that wolf kept howling mournfully. At two o’clock in the morning they were deep in the Sierra Chorino Mountains on a cliff overlooking a valley whose depth could not be gauged in the moonlight.
Nora took a swig from her canteen. Their faces were streaked with dust and perspiration and they were both breathing heavily.
“How much farther?” Butler asked.
“About three more hours.”
“Are you tired?”
“Who, me?” she asked, as though the question were totally preposterous. “Of course not.”
Butler realized that she had to be exhausted, but as a young feminist she wouldn’t admit it.
“Well I’m just about wiped out,” he said. “Let’s take a break.”
“All right,” she said nonchalantly, collapsing onto a log.
“Maybe we should make camp here and get a few hours’ sleep. We can leave at dawn for the guerrilla base.”
“If you need the sleep,” she said.
While Nora lay against the log, Butler pitched the tent and threw in the sleeping bags. Then
he took some cheese and sausage out of the packs and sat beside Nora. They dined together, talking of politics and war. Butler learned that she was a graduate of Michigan State University and had been an electronics engineer before joining the Institute.
Finally it was time to go to bed. They crawled into the tent and Nora got into her sleeping bag with all her clothes on,
“Aren’t you going to take your clothes off?” Butler asked, in the darkness.
“Of course not.”
“I am.”
“Go ahead.”
He took off his boots and every other article of his clothing including his underwear, while Nora kept her back to him. He liked the feet of a down sleeping bag against his naked skin. It was a warm cozy sensation which he thought probably was just like a womb.
“May I kiss you good night, Ms. Morrissey?” Butler asked.
“Huh?”
“I asked if I could kiss you good night.”
“Are you serious?”
“Certainly. Here we are alone in the woods like brother and sister. It’s appropriate that we kiss each other good night.”
“What a sentimental character you are, Mr. Butler.”
“I can’t deny it.”
“Well, if you must…”
“You’re so kind, Ms. Morrissey.”
Butler rolled her onto her back, crawled on top of her. pressed his lips against hers and squirmed his tongue into her mouth. She went rigid and tried to push him away but he held her tightly and pressed his stiffening phallus against her.
“You don’t have any clothes on!” she said hysterically, when he took his mouth away.
“I know,” he replied, “and you shouldn’t have either.”
“What are you talking about? What do you think this is?”
“This,” he said, taking her hand and moving it so it touched his rod.
She pulled her hand away quickly. “Have you gone mad?”
“Not at all.” He proceeded to unzip her sleeping bag.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’ve decided that I’m going to take off all your clothes and zip our sleeping bags together.”
“What!”
“You heard me.”
She crossed her arms over her breasts. “Get away from me this instant!”
He bent over and pressed his lips against the part of her sleeping bag above the juncture of her thighs, and breathed warm air into her bush.
“Please don’t do that,” she said.
He breathed more warm air into her bush.
“You’re taking advantage of me,” she whimpered.
Butler unzipped her sleeping bag, pulled it away from her, kissed the crotch of her jeans.
“Please don’t,” she said, not very convincingly.
He unzipped her jeans and flicked his tongue at the fold in her underpants. She ran her fingers through his hair and sighed. He pulled down her jeans and underpants, while she raised her butt to help him. Undressing her, licking her fine red muff, and kissing her nipples, he peeled off her shirt and laid her on the down sleeping bags. Then he lowered himself onto her and kissed her strawberry lips. She opened her mouth and raised her tongue, which he slobbered over like a depraved fiend.
“You’re making me crazy you bastard,” she mumbled, reaching down to feel his violently throbbing cock. “Oh my goodness! That’s nice,” she said, caressing his thickness.
“It sure is.”
“You’re a sexy man.”
“I’ll bet you say that to all the guys.”
“Only to sexy ones. You know, I’ve thought you were very sexy from the moment I first laid eyes on you.”
“You sure didn’t act it.”
“You were in the middle of a crisis at the time. It would have been most inappropriate.”
“There’s always time for a quickie.”
She slapped him gently. “You’re awful.”
“We could have done it right on your desk.”
“There wasn’t time.”
“We could have made time. Quickies are called quickies because they don’t take much time.”
“I don’t like quickies. Most women don’t.”
“Sometimes you have to settle for what you can get.”
“Maybe, but something told me we’d be alone someday, and that you’d try to seduce me, you big bum.”
“You hoped that I would?” Butler asked.
“Uh huh.”
‘Then why did you try to stop me?”
“I can’t let you think I’m easy.”
“Shall we get on with it? We may not have much time.”
“There are more important things than time. It is important for a woman to convey to a man a sense of privilege.”
“That’s true.”
“So we can’t be easy.”
“But you told me to get away from you,” Butler said, kissing a little pink nipple.
“That was part of the game, darling. It’s all a game, you know.”
“Sometimes I wonder if it is just a game, or whether it’s something greater than that. Sometimes I think it is the very melody of the universe itself.”
She looked down at him. “Why Butler, that’s positively poetic.”
“Yes it is, isn’t it?”
“I never realized you were so poetic.”
“If it’s that good, I must have read it in a book someplace.”
She slapped his head gently. “Oh Butler, you’re such a lowlife.”
“I can’t help it if I’m an honest man.”
“You’re a sex pervert—that’s what you are.”
He moved closer to her and rested his stiffening member against her supple thigh. “I guess I am.”
“What in the world is that?”
“What in the world is what?”
“I think there’s a snake crawling up my leg.”
“There is.”
“Will he bite me?”
“No.”
“What does he want?”
Butler raised himself and rubbed the head of it against her moist slit. “I think he wants to go in there.”
“But he can’t go in there,” she said, shaking her head.
“Why not?”
“Because he’s too big.”
“He’s not too big.”
“Yes he is.”
“Do we have to go through that whole thing?”
She spread her legs. “Well, if you don’t want to,” she said lazily.
He was hard as a baseball bat as he pushed it into her gooey sweetness.
Her eyes rolled up into her head. “Oh Butler...”
“Is everything all right?” _”It really is very big, Butler.”
“Cut it out.”
“I’m not complaining—I’m just saying it’s very big.”
“Okay, so it’s big.”
“But you can put more of it in if you want to.”
He pushed his hips forward, and it slid in deeper. “Is that all right?”
“That’s wonderful,” she whispered.
He pushed in a few inches more. “How about that?”
“Isn’t it all in yet?”
“Nope.”
“My goodness.”
“Don’t say it.”
“I’ve got to say it.”
“If you’ve got to, then go ahead.”
“It’s so big,” she sighed.
“Want some more?”
“Give it all to me, baby.”
“Okay, but just remember, you asked for it.” And he dipped it in all the way, laying on top of her and letting it soak there. “Are you okay?”
Her eyes were closed. “I think I died and went to heaven,” she said.
“You may be in heaven, but you haven’t died.”
“Where are you?” she asked.
“Inside of you,” he replied.
“Do you like it in there?”
“I love it in there. I wish I could stay there forever.”
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“I wish you could too You feel so good.”
“I thought you were afraid it’d be too big.”
“I guess my fears were unfounded. A girl needs a big one every now and then.”
“But it’s not the meat—it’s the motion that counts.”
“I know you’ve got the motion too.”
“I bet you say that to all the guys.”
“Only the ones who’ve got it.”
“Have there been many?”
“You never get enough of that kind,” she confessed. “Are you going to fuck me or would you rather talk, by the way?”
“I think I’m going to fuck you.”
“Then I think you’d better get started.”
“Okay,” he replied, pulling it out.
“You sure do have a way about you,” she said, dazed.
“It may not be very subtle, but it works,” he replied, pushing it into her again.
“Oh God, Butler. You’re going to kill me with that thing.”
“Nobody ever died from it yet.”
He pulled it back and then jabbed it in again. She raised her knees in the air and swayed her hips from side to side, wrapping her arms around his waist. He worked her slowly, holding her ass in his hands, and she chewed his lips and sucked his tongue. Gathering steam, he positioned himself so that the top of his rod rubbed against her tiddly-wink every time he moved in and out. Their bodies pounded against each other; she scratched his back with her long fingernails and kicked her legs in the air. His giant schlong drove in and out of her, and delicate juices dripped out of her cupcake. Her head thrashed from side to side on the down sleeping bags, and the night was filled with music. They went at each other like wild animals, grunting, kissing and chewing each other, holding so tightly they bruised each other’s skin. She fainted from sheer pleasure a few times, but Butler maintained his maddening incessant rhythm. Their bodies became hotter, their joy increased with every movement, and finally when their passion became too great for them to keep pent up inside themselves anymore, it burst away in a flood of sperm and lightning bolt orgasms, and they went into convulsions against each other, twisting and arching their backs, gulping air for fear they’d suffocate, holding onto each other for fear that if they let go they’d be lost forever, and then finally, after countless eternities had passed, they lay still side by side on the sleeping bags, as on some distant mountain peak a fox barked at the moon.
