by Henry Morgan
No matter what she said he kept up his disgusting grunting and heaving and pounding.
‘Do they fuck goats in your village?’ She whispered the insult sexily. ‘What do you do, bribe them to sleep with you? That’s all you’re good for…’
‘Obviously not,’ interrupted a cultured voice.
The loathsome gaoler didn’t miss a stroke, but continued humping on the poor girl, and behind him in the doorway, stood Captain Vasili. He was flicking through a small folder that held her documents.
‘You owe me one army all-terrain vehicle,’ he calmly told her.
Sabrina’s body jerked in rhythm with the brute’s thrusts. He was moving more frenziedly and she knew he wasn’t far from ejaculating, and then he came and despite clinging on to his shoulders and grimacing with disgust as he flooded her, Sabrina felt elated because Vasili offered a chance to get out of the hellhole and away from the utter slob who was lurching on top of her.
‘I-I think I’m paying for it, don’t you?’ she implored.
The captain smiled a knowing smile. ‘It was an expensive vehicle, and I had trouble explaining how it was stolen.’ He kicked the slumped gaoler and signalled for him to leave with a jerk of a thumb. The fat man stood up and made a big play of putting his cock away, leering down at his lovely victim, then kicked some rotten fruit across the floor and left with the steel bucket to feed the next prisoner.
Sabrina lay still for a moment; exhausted after the ordeal she had just been through. Vasili stood at the door and impassively studied her.
‘Quite daring,’ he said, after Sabrina had pulled herself to a sitting position against the cell wall. ‘The British are obviously improving their training of spies. Beautiful women seducing Russian officers; officers in the KGB, at that. Very impressive.’
‘And your female spies don’t sleep with British ministers?’ Sabrina countered.
‘So you admit you are a spy?’
Despite her previous trials Sabrina felt really terrified. It was a stupid thing to say, and she feared that with that one slip she might have sealed her fate. ‘I – I didn’t mean that,’ she stammered. ‘I was just saying that Russian spies probably have to do that. As part of their job, I mean.’
‘Like it was part of your job?’
‘No.’ She stood up, still naked, brushed back her bedraggled hair and stared at the ceiling, realising that what she said next could see her shot. ‘Listen,’ she whispered in a voice that splintered along with her confidence. ‘Everything I said yesterday… to those women with the water.’
‘In the bathhouse.’
‘Whatever you call it. It was the truth; I’m simply searching for someone.’
‘Then why is there no record of you entering the country?’
‘Because I didn’t come through like most people.’
‘Oh,’ said Vasili, clearly anxious to learn how the borders of the mother country could be crossed so easily. ‘And how did you enter?’
‘The first time was—’
‘The first time?’
Sabrina considered there was little point in lying; not if she wanted to keep out of the bathhouse, or one of the other rooms she had glimpsed when being dragged to the cell.
‘Yes, I was here a year or two ago. We were delivering a man. The one I was chasing when I crashed the truck… your truck.’
‘And what were you doing?’
Sabrina’s shoulders slumped. ‘You won’t believe me.’
‘Then you must persuade me. You seem good at that; persuading people.’
‘Is that you?’
‘Just me,’ answered Catherine. ‘Who were you expecting, the KGB?’ She put down two large bags of groceries on the kitchen worktop and noticed the pristine condition of her typical single girl’s flat. Justin was just finishing washing some dishes.
‘You don’t have to do that,’ she told him.
‘I want to,’ he said, and lightly touched her face with his wet fingers, leaving a small ball of suds on her nose that made her sneeze. ‘You do so much for me. Besides, it keeps me busy.’ He went to the fridge where he had made up a pitcher of vodka and orange. ‘There you go.’
Catherine took a drink and went about putting away the provisions she had bought from the indoor market near the police station. ‘I have some news for you,’ she announced.
‘Good news?’
‘I saw Viktor.’
‘That’s not good news,’ Justin said, and he threw the tea towel onto the worktop and collected his own drink.
‘I never said it was good news, jealous man.’ She pulled his drink from his mouth and replaced it with her lips. She kissed him, and then pulled away to see him give one of his ‘I’m sorry’ shrugs. ‘Perhaps I won’t tell you,’ she added, ‘if you are not happy with Viktor’s help.’ She picked up her cigarettes and lit one, then busied herself once more with her shopping, and when she reached down into a cupboard next to the sink Justin hugged her around the waist in an attempt to apologise.
‘What did he say?’ he asked.
‘I have forgotten,’ she answered sulkily, and pushed past him to reach for an ashtray.
‘You said he had news.’
‘Who?’
‘Viktor.’
‘Ha! So you do know his name.’
‘Yes, I know his name. And his game.’
‘Game? What is this?’
Justin stepped closer and hugged her again. With a sigh he said, ‘Look, let’s start again. I really do want to know what your Viktor said.’
‘Okay then.’ She exhaled a cloud of blue tobacco smoke. ‘But first, he is not my Viktor. He is my friend. And second, are you sure you want to hear the news?’
‘Why?’ he asked, suddenly afraid of what she was about to say.
‘Because it is about your girlfriend.’
‘Sabrina?’
‘Yes, Sabrina.’ She knocked the ash off her cigarette and took a long thoughtful pull of smoke. When she felt relaxed enough she took a sip of vodka and announced, ‘She is in Lubyanka.’
‘Great!’ exclaimed Justin. ‘Then she must have got away… Where’s Lubyanka?’
‘Moscow.’
Justin missed the flat tone of her voice. ‘What, north, south… where?’
‘Moscow, Justin. It’s a prison. A very bad prison. Many go in. Few come back out. The KGB, it is their prison.’
‘Oh, no,’ Justin sighed, and Catherine was surprised by the mild manner in which he took the news; she was expecting some sort of emotional outburst. ‘I told her,’ he went on. ‘When she was waving that stupid bloody gun around in that shop. Why didn’t she listen? How are we going to get out of this mess?’ His body slumped and he made his way into the lounge and sat on the sofa. Catherine picked up her drink and joined him.
‘Viktor will find a way,’ she told him. ‘He has many contacts… many contacts.’
‘And what will he want for this help? I suppose he isn’t doing it for the benefit of my health.’
‘Then you will be right,’ she told him. ‘He wants me to work for him.’
Justin gave a false laugh. ‘And you don’t have to tell me what as. I can guess.’
‘Then you will be right.’
‘You don’t have to do this – not for me.’
Catherine took up his empty glass to refill it. ‘It’s not just for you,’ she said. ‘He has asked me for a long time. I was going to do it anyway. I need money, I have no job. So I was just waiting to see what he would offer me.’
‘But it isn’t for you, is it? It’s for me.’
‘I know,’ she said from the kitchen, then came back into the room and gave him his recharged glass. ‘But I have nothing I really want. So why not? At least someone gets something.’ She paused for a moment and then tried to reassure him. ‘I was going to do it anywa
y. Why not now?’
There was a light bump when the Olga jarred into the quay at Amderma. The crew were already busying themselves and David’s ski sled swung gently in the netting of a boom crane.
‘Very efficient,’ he complimented.
‘We must hurry,’ Leonid replied. ‘We don’t want to be here too long.’
David smiled. ‘I think we are safe now,’ he said. ‘Well away from Murmansk. The captain’s happy.’ He looked across to the girls who were kissing a number of the crew farewell. Many of the men were taking the added liberty of running their hands underneath the girls’ leather skirts and rubbing their bare bottoms. ‘The crew are happy,’ he added. ‘What can go wrong?’ and almost before he had finished his sentence the cold northern air was filled with the terrible scream of a jetfighter swooping low. David ducked by instinct, but the rest hardly seemed to notice.
‘Mig 31,’ said Leonid impassively. ‘Foxhound. The 72nd Fighter Regiment have a base here.’
‘No wonder you want out,’ said David. ‘They frightened the shit out of me.’
‘It is not the fighters,’ Leonid replied. The sled was landed on the quay and released from its packaging. ‘You do not know about Novaya Zemlya?’
They were joined by the girls, who stood either side of David. ‘The big island to the north? What about it?’
‘Object 700.’
‘I thought it was just a happy fishing ground for the tribes.’
‘Fish as big as a ship,’ laughed Leonid. ‘Not that you can eat them.’
David looked at the large Russian for an explanation.
‘Object 700,’ Leonid went on. ‘Was the great motherland’s testing ground for nuclear weapons. Everywhere is radioactive.’ He lifted up his hands and trembled them. ‘It’s all buzzing,’ he smiled.
‘What about them?’ asked David, pointing to a group of scientists waiting for the weather equipment they had ordered.
‘They are in special suits,’ Leonid answered. He was stating the obvious because the three men on the quay looked like well-padded polar bears. ‘They do two months and are taken off. Then some others come. No one stays longer. You shouldn’t.’
‘Fucking marvellous,’ David moaned. ‘Idiots to the west, soldiers to the south and one huge microwave oven to the north.’ He looked down to the sled and the long trailer attached to it. ‘Your brother did order the supplies I asked for to go on the sled?’
Leonid guided David to the gangway. ‘Enough for a month,’ he assured him. ‘Nicholas was very happy with the journey. He has never seen his crew so content and willing to work. You must not stay in this region longer than you have to. Set off straightaway, or soon you will have no appetite for food at all.’ He held out his hand and David took it in his. The Mig screamed overhead again and as David looked up to see it he caught sight of the captain on the bridge, controlling the unloading through a radio. The two men exchanged waves and David and the girls left the ship. As the three pulled away into the dim light of the afternoon the cheers of the crew followed them.
Chapter 10
Floating in outer space was how Sabrina felt. The darkness was total. There was no front, no back, no up, no down. She lifted her hand and waved it before her face. She couldn’t see it, and for a terrifying moment she thought she couldn’t even feel it. She didn’t even register the chair she had been forced to sit on several hours ago. Her limbs seemed to have detached from her body and she felt herself to be just a brain, or even less, some intangible mass of thought with no substance.
To try to gain some sort of sensation she pinched the soft inside of her thigh, the pain was exhilarating and she felt herself gain some control over her panic.
Then the light came on; a thin pencil beam that hit the top of her head from above and cast shadows beneath her. She was naked, but that didn’t bother her. She was more concerned with her immediate future.
The ceiling light had illuminated a small circle on the floor and she found herself studying the circumference of it intently, and was rewarded by the sight of a shiny black patent leather boot stepping into the light. She gasped, and her breath billowed in an icy cloud before her face.
‘Comfortable?’
She recognised Vasili’s voice. ‘Not really,’ she replied candidly.
The Russian captain stepped into the light, lit a cigarette and fixed his glare upon Sabrina. ‘Then how can we help each other?’ he said in a calm, almost soothing voice.
‘I will tell you whatever you want to know,’ she answered. She had already figured she was probably not going to leave the prison outside of a box at midnight, and she had no desire to spend her last moments in pain.
‘I can assure you,’ put in Vasili, ‘that you would undoubtedly tell us everything.’ He paused a moment and took a few paces to the side before returning to his original position. ‘But now, now we are not interested.’ She didn’t asked why, and he was impressed by her silence and control. ‘I have to congratulate you on your resilience,’ he complimented her. ‘Let us hope your friend is as good at surviving as you are. Where he is, he will need it.’
She remained silent, having no way of knowing whether he meant David or Justin. Then Vasili made a mistake by adding that it was only a matter of time before they apprehended her friend from the shop. ‘He will be the lucky one,’ Vasili added. ‘At least he will die here, in the warm.’
So he was talking about David, Sabrina thought. The fight had not completely left her and she found herself desperate to know where David was. ‘You call this warm?’ she chanced, hoping he wouldn’t have some torture prepared for any misdemeanour she committed.
‘A lot warmer than where your friend is,’ he grinned. ‘Perhaps we should concentrate on your other friend, the one who was with you in the trading post. Where is he?’
The fear churned again in Sabrina. She had no knowledge of what had happened to Justin. They wouldn’t believe that, she knew. They would simply increase the pressure on her. God knows what they would do after what she had witnessed and experienced in the bathhouse. ‘I honestly don’t know,’ she said with a whimper. ‘I would tell you Vasili, you know I would.’
Vasili dropped the stub of his cigarette and ground it firmly into the concrete floor. ‘I was hoping you would say that,’ he informed her. Suddenly the metal door swung open and clattered against the wall and two men and the gaoler marched in. Without hesitating they strode straight to Sabrina, lifted her out of the chair, forced her arms behind her back and buckled them at the elbows and the wrists. Before she had time to react a cold iron bar was slipped into the gap between her restrained arms and her body, and at one wall the brute released a chain that lowered another chain connected to a metal A-frame. The frame was connected to each end of the bar behind Sabrina’s back and she grimaced before the brute had even begun to haul her towards the ceiling. She knew what was coming because she had done it herself, to the women and men who had been to Camelot for training.
The gaoler grinned as he pulled on the chain and his mouth split to display a row of yellow teeth like broken gravestones. If there had been a caring heart in that room witnessing her ordeal it would have melted. Sabrina first struggled against her bonds, and then stood pitifully on tiptoe before he pulled again and she continued her torturous ascent.
‘Please,’ she pleaded. ‘Whatever you want, I will do it. Whatever it is.’
‘Information,’ Vasili said coolly. ‘What is your friend’s name?’
‘Which one? I don’t know which one you mean.’
‘Well then.’ Vasili lit another cigarette and walked to Sabrina, until he was a few inches in front of her suspended body. He admired the tattoo on her pudenda and remembered the pleasant evening he had spent between the girl’s thighs. He blew the cigarette smoke and watched it curl and fold in front of the rampant felines, then looked up into her eyes. ‘Let us start with the one who sta
yed at the hotel Polarny Zony and left without paying for his stay. Who is he?’
‘David,’ Sabrina quickly answered. ‘David Harper – but I don’t know where he is. Honestly I don’t.’
‘Shhh,’ Vasili soothed. He took hold of her ankles and pulled playfully at them, increasing her distress. ‘We know where this David Harper is. One of our planes spotted a supply ship landing a ski sled and a man and two girls at Amderma. We have already sent some men to pick them up.’ He tugged her ankles and gave some consideration to her distress, and then he turned to the gaoler and spat some instructions, and a moment later the loathsome slob pushed over a rusty iron box.
Sabrina heard the container being opened and strained to see what horrors it held. It was impossible to see anything, but she knew the clink-clank of metal being knocked against metal.
‘Who is he?’ Vasili asked. His voice was cold and detached, but his hands were probing Sabrina’s vagina.
‘I don’t know,’ she sobbed.
‘Where is he?’
Before she could answer she felt him separate her inner labia and pinch each puffy lip between the jaws of a bull clip. Their bite was firm; firmer than she’d had cause to use in her own training school, but she knew the reason for the extra strength. The chain dangling from the clips gave it away.
‘Again,’ said Vasili. ‘Where is he?’
‘He must have run away when I crashed the truck.’ Her limbs were beginning to warm up as the muscles in her arms began producing lactic acid. This anaerobic process allowed her to withstand the pain of being suspended, but it wouldn’t last forever, and she would soon become convulsed with cramps.
‘Then where did he go?’
‘Back to the hotel I suppose.’ She felt him fumble between her legs and braced her body by squeezing the bar behind her back. It helped, a little. Vasili had attached two small weights to the clamps and they pulled down on her vagina. ‘Please, Vasili,’ she pleaded. ‘If I knew I would say. You must know that.’ More weights were added and the flesh between the clips distended, forcing the blood to move elsewhere. ‘Remember the times we had together,’ she whimpered in search of mercy. ‘The ice palace… Uncle Vanya.’
