When I opened the door I was hit with a blast of stale marijuana smoke and perfume. My hair tended to stand up but I smoothed it down, with iron control. I had my plans.
I took my bag inside. I checked to be sure there was no evidence of my entering. I closed and relocked both doors.
The main front room I would avoid. I knew it had a bank camera in it and if I guessed right that camera was keyed to the safe, and if anyone tampered with that safe the camera would start to take pictures. There even might be a connection to Miss Pinch’s office. No, I would avoid that room. Just then I don’t think I could have stood the sight of that bed and the shackles in there or the torture instruments, like cans of pepper and bottles of Tabasco sauce. I had been under strain lately.
I went down the hall that flanked the rooms. I looked out the rear door: the garden was just a mass of tin cans and leftover snow. The board fence around it prevented any view in.
I opened the hall door to Candy’s room. Gingham everywhere, pink and white. Organdy curtains and a bedspread stained with lipstick.
Good. I would now get dressed for combat.
Something bit me. This had been going on for quite a while and I was getting tired of it. Here was my chance to get out of these clothes and get rid of some fleas.
I put my suitcase on the boudoir seat and opened it. I took out another gun, my Ruger Blackhawk .30 caliber. I laid it handy to the door with my Beretta. I could not be too careful. I knew exactly what I was dealing with. But also I knew I had to get the combination to that safe, which only Miss Pinch had. And I had the exact plan of how to do it.
But I had lots of time. There was a closet there. It was full of clothes, both Candy’s and Miss Pinch’s. I suddenly found something astonishingly apt for my plot.
It was a black silk kimono, very long and very big. It had an embroidered design upon the chest. I recognized it at once! It was a figure with two heads: at one end it was a horned dragon, at the other it was a fanged snake. The Ninja! They were a cult of outcast assassins, the most deadly secret executioners of Japan. How apt!
I promptly got out of my clothes. I went into the shower and let it run and run, washing off several fleas. It was a relief.
The towels were all lipstick stained so I dried myself with a wad of Candy’s underwear.
I put on the Ninja kimono. Now I certainly looked the part. I grinned at myself in the boudoir mirror. If these two lesbians knew what horrible things awaited them today, they’d both collapse from shock and heart failure.
Oh, I would get that safe combination all right.
I took two objects out of my suitcase. I picked up a pillow off the bed.
I went out into the hall. I put the pillow down behind the front door so I could be comfortable. I sat on it and gently musing, grinning with glee from time to time, I waited.
Candy usually came home first. What a horrible shock was going to be hers today!
I wondered idly if there might not be something to the philosophy of one of Earth’s truly great wise men, the Marquis de Sade, renowned propounder of sadism. When in Rome, do as the Romans do, they say. When in the apartment of Miss Pinch, the behavior pattern she set was almost impossible to attain. But I fully intended to go one better than even Miss Pinch’s wildest nightmares.
I chuckled now and then, sitting there in the dark behind the door, savoring my plan. A master of Earth psychology was about to improve even upon the Marquis de Sade.
PART FORTY-ONE
Chapter 7
The sound of footsteps coming down the basement entrance steps. The sound of a key being fitted in the iron grate. The groaning sound of hinges as the grill opened. The fumble of a key searching for the slot in the second lock.
I crouched back, waiting.
She came in the door.
Candy!
I gave her no chance to close it. I rose up with a smooth and stealthy spring!
My left arm went around her throat to shut off any scream.
My right hand quivered in front of her face. My thumb broke the capsule of five-minute knockout gas.
I let up on her throat.
She inhaled to cry out.
She didn’t cry out. She went down like a pile of laundry, out cold.
I closed the doors.
I took hold of her foot and dragged her down the hall and into her bedroom.
I worked fast. I tore off her coat. Her shoes hit the floor. Her dress went flying to the back of a chair. One stocking went one way, the other soared up and draped over a chandelier.
I stood and looked down at the unconscious body with a triumphant grin.
She was really not a bad-looking woman.
But I had no time for any more scenic wonders today.
I put a wad of stockings in her mouth and gagged her with her own brassiere. I took down a piece of laundry line on which they hung their undies in the bathroom. I cut it and used the shorter piece to tie her hands behind her. I used the longer piece to strongly secure her ankles together. I had it all planned out.
I left her there on the floor. I closed the hall door to her room. I made sure there was no sign of struggle in the hall. I cat-footed back to my position behind the door. I laid out the Beretta and the Ruger just in case. The next one would be trickier, for it would be Miss Pinch. She was the vicious one.
I crouched down to wait. Sixteen minutes went by.
Footsteps on the basement entrance stairs. The crackle of paper as though someone were juggling a bundle. The sound of the bell. It rang but once. There was no one with her, then, for I knew the other signal.
Would she think Candy had not arrived yet? I held my breath.
Another rustle of paper.
Triumph! A key rattling in the grill lock. The groan of its opening. The rattle of another key in the door.
It opened!
“Candy?” called Miss Pinch as she stepped into the hall.
I sprang.
My left arm went around her throat.
She kicked backwards with her heel!
A bag of groceries crashed to the floor.
She was trying to turn.
My right hand was in front of her face. The second five-minute gas capsule burst under my thumb. I eased her throat. “God d . . .” I kicked her. An intake of breath.
Down she went to join the grocery sack!
I averted my face to avoid the dispersing gas.
I closed the grill and made sure it was locked. I checked for any telltale signs outside. I closed and barred the door. Then I pushed the second, padded door securely into place.
I was in a soundproof apartment with Candy and Miss Pinch. Now I would show the Marquis de Sade a thing or two!
I grabbed Miss Pinch’s right arm and dragged her into the front room. The place was much as I had seen it that agonizing last time. There were even some mustard and Tabasco smears on the huge bed. The torture implements were in their usual places but even more caked with dust. But it was no time for scenic tours.
I tore her mannish hat off her head. Her hair spilled out. I got her out of her topcoat and threw it aside. I stripped off her jacket. I unbuckled her belt, grabbed her pants cuffs and, taking her shoes with them, unshucked her out of her pants.
Her mannish shirt would not come off until I realized the tie was holding it on. I got rid of that. I pulled the shirttail over her head and got her out of it.
She was wearing men’s shorts! But that wasn’t the most astonishing thing. She had on a flesh-colored bra! I had never noticed it before. I thought she had been almost without breasts. It had no straps. It was sort of molded to her. I put my fingers under it and ripped. Off it came. It revealed perfectly normal female breasts! She had been wearing a breast compressor to make them appear flat! Well, well! The trouble some lesbian “husbands” will go to, to appear like men!
I yanked off her right sock and threw it in the air. I yanked off the left sock and it soared to impale itself upon a shield of swords. I stared at her. She w
as a far less masculine female than I had thought in my past deliriums.
But I would have to move fast. I only had those five minutes and after that the thin lips of Pinch were going to start their acid profanity again.
I had her ready now. I boosted her up on the huge broad bed. I shackled her right wrist, I shackled her left wrist. I shackled her right ankle, I shackled her left ankle. And each to its nearest bedpost. Then I grabbed each chain in turn and tightened it taut so that she was spread-eagled face up on that bed.
Ah, what a satisfactory sight! Turnabout is fair play and the worm had turned. Miss Pinch was at my mercy. And Gods, was she going to get a shock!
I went and got Candy. She was conscious now. Her eyes were shifting wildly. Tied though she was, she tried to cower away. Gagged as she was, she still tried to scream. Wonderful!
I picked her up and took her into the front room. I threw her down on the side couch. I stretched her out on her back. Working and holding her down at the same time, I lashed a third rope to her right ankle, which was nearest the couch back. I passed the rope through a slit where the back met the cushions. I passed the rope under the couch and tied her left ankle. Then I untied the original ankle rope. I spread her feet wide apart despite her kicks and lashed her there. When I finished she was spread-eagled on that sofa so thoroughly she couldn’t even wobble away.
With considerable satisfaction, I stood back. I admired my handiwork. No Earth Boy Scout could have done better. I had earned my merit badge.
Very shortly now, Miss Pinch would be babbling the combination to that safe. I would have money. And I would be on my way to avenge myself on Heller.
The Apparatus had never had a better pupil than myself!
Today I was going to triumph! Marquis de Sade, pay attention!
PART FORTY-ONE
Chapter 8
No psychiatrist ever gazed at the lacerated brain of a patient with more pleasure than I enjoyed when I saw the look in Miss Pinch’s eyes after she came awake.
She had struggled up through the haze of gas into the horror of seeing her dear Candy, gagged and writhing, defenseless on that couch.
Miss Pinch had yanked at each chain in turn with no more result than a worm trying to lift the world. Less. She couldn’t even flex her muscles!
You would have expected recriminations, revilement and vituperations. You would have expected things like “Inkswitch!” and “You (bleep)!” and “I’ll have your (bleeps)!” I know I did. But nothing passed those deadly, compressed lips. Not one word. The eyes were saying it all!
I put my hands on the lapels of the Ninja kimono I was wearing. I rocked back and forth on my bare feet. I smiled at her in a deadly way. She was faced with a master psychologist about to outdo the Marquis de Sade. I was in no hurry. We had the whole night. No screams would penetrate these walls—that I knew too well. No sudden rescue would occur. But still, just looking at Miss Pinch, I had to cover up a feeling of ill ease. Act casual and relaxed. That was part of the plan. But don’t forget for a moment, I whispered to myself, that you are looking at one of the most tricky and dangerous creatures alive: not only was she a woman, she was also Miss Pinch!
I would be fair. Before I began on Chapter Two of the Apparatus field manual on torture, I would start with Chapter One: Pretend a friendly attitude at first; it increases the eventual shock of horror which is to come. But sometimes they break at once.
“Miss Pinch,” I said, “I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you again. And to observe how healthy you are.” Good stamina makes them last longer. “But I am a great admirer of yours. I have often thought of you for hours on end. So come, let us be friends right from the start, here. If you give me the combination to that safe, I will simply take my money out and be on my way. You’ve often said it yourself: it is my money. This isn’t even robbery. So how about it? What is the combination?”
Her lips sealed even tighter.
Ah, well, there was no hurry. I went out into the hall and picked up the groceries so no caller, looking in, would see the disarray. I brought them back. I put the pizza in the freezer and the cans of beer in the Iron Maiden fridge to cool. A homey, domestic touch.
I looked at Candy. She was throwing her head from left to right, eyes wild, trying to spit out the gag. I trailed a finger down her throat and then made a mysterious circle with it before her face. Incomprehensible.
Miss Pinch lay there, tight-lipped, staring.
I loosened Candy’s gag and took it off. She instantly screamed. Good.
I wandered casually around the room. Two sets of eyes followed me. Drag it out. Don’t let them know what you’re really going to do.
Candy stopped screaming. I got out a beer. I opened it. I extended it to her. “You usually have a beer this time of day, Miss Licorice. No? Well, you probably would rather have it in the usual place, now that you are screaming.” I walked over and laid it against her foot. I moved it up and down a bit.
Candy screamed.
“You’re really in good voice tonight,” I said. “But come, dear Candy, you are in no danger at all. All Miss Pinch has to do is give me the combination to the safe and I will go away so peacefully, you’ll never know I was here.” I moved the beer can up and down.
“Pinchy!” cried Candy, looking beseechingly at the bed, “For God’s sake, give him the combination to that safe.”
Miss Pinch compressed her lips more tightly.
I pried open Candy’s mouth and poured a small amount of beer in it. She choked. She spat it out. She turned her head to the bed again. “For God’s sake, I don’t know what this monster means to do! Please, please, Pinchy! PLEASE!”
I put the flat of my hand on Candy’s chin and began to rotate it gently. She stared at me in horror. She looked down and saw how naked she was. She strained at her bonds.
I moved my hand to her stomach and rotated it around. Then, circle by circle, I went lower and lower. Just before I touched between her legs, I stood back. I took a sip of beer.
Casually, I wandered over to the record cabinet. I put the beer down and began to go through the collection.
Two sets of eyes watched me, two birds staring at a snake.
I read record labels. I went further and further down the stacks. Then I saw a pile that was at the extreme bottom and the back, covered with dust. Aha! These must be records they hated and never played. In a cloud of dust, I took them out.
LOVE SONGS!
The very thing! How they must despise them, to bury them so deep! I slid them out of their jackets and stacked them on the automatic spindle. I dropped on the first platter.
“What are you going to do?” screamed Candy.
The music had begun. I gestured at the devil-mask speakers. “Let this be your theme song for tonight, Miss Candy Licorice.”
The drum began a pound, pound, pound.
A tenor began to love-croon:
When I gaze into your eyes,
I see love, love, love.
When I try you on for size,
I feel love, love, love.
When I press your gushing breasts,
And I feel your thighs’ caress,
I feel love, love, love.
Go into me!
Candy began to thresh about. Her eyes got wilder and wilder. She screamed. Then she turned her head sideways. She shouted, “For God’s sakes, give him the combination! He’s going to rape me!”
Miss Pinch compressed her lips tightly. I looked at her. I said, “She is absolutely correct.”
I opened up the front of the Ninja robe and stood, facing Candy.
Candy stared at me. Then she screamed, “Jesus Christ!”
I walked over to her. I looked at Miss Pinch. I said, “You’re the one that’s making her suffer. All you have to do is give me the combination.”
Miss Pinch’s lips shut tighter. Her eyes fixed on me. It was a battle of wills.
I put a knee on Candy’s couch. I looked again at Miss Pinch.
Not
hing but tight lips.
Candy was threshing her head from side to side, frantic!
I put my other knee on the couch.
Candy screamed!
I looked at Miss Pinch.
Tight, closed lips.
Suddenly, something stopped me.
I stared at Candy in amazement.
She stared back at me in terror.
I had to keep my mind on the real business here. I looked at Miss Pinch. I said, “Your little wife here is a virgin! If I keep on, she isn’t going to be a virgin anymore. One last chance. Tell me the combination to that safe or I open this one!”
Miss Pinch’s lips were even tighter shut.
I said to Miss Pinch, “It’s you that’s doing this.”
The devil-mask speaker grinned.
“Here goes!” I said.
Candy screamed louder than the music, by far!
She threw her head back and went unconscious.
The turntable went round and round.
Miss Pinch’s eyes were unreadable.
The turntable went around and around.
Candy came to. She glanced sideways at Miss Pinch and then began to moan.
The beer can tipped over and gushed its foaming contents across the floor.
Candy screamed.
The legs of the sofa did a jumping waltz.
Candy’s eyes rolled up into her head, leaving the whites showing.
She slumped.
She was out cold.
Miss Pinch’s eyes were unreadable. Her lips stayed sealed.
Candy’s hair was trailing down to the floor. She was totally unconscious.
I stood up, pulling the robe around me.
I opened another can of beer. I took a sip. I walked over to the foot of Miss Pinch’s bed. “You see what your stubbornness has done. You have caused poor Candy to break the most sacred Psychiatric Birth Control laws. You have caused her in your crass unfeelingness even to betray the holy name of Rockecenter. There she lies, no longer an innocent virgin.” I pointed to her trailing hair, which flowed down from her unconscious face. “Alas, you forced her to be violated. She is a fallen woman!”
Fortune of Fear Page 25
