Nucflash by Keith Douglass Page B

had deepened considerably by the time they reached Inge’s apartment again, at just past twelve-thirty in the morning. She asked him in to have a drink and he accepted, with Mac waiting for him in a rented car outside. After two drinks more, she asked him to spend the night. Murdock signaled MacKenzie from her apartment’s balcony with a flashlight, a quick-beamed longshort-short—not Morse for the letter “D,” but an old Navy whistle or horn signal meaning, “Cast off and stand clear.” MacKenzie replied with an affirmative flash from his headlights and drove off a few moments later.
    When Murdock turned away from the window, Inge was waiting for him, beautifully, gloriously naked.

5
    Saturday, April 28
    0136 hours
Waterfront Rise
Middlebrough, England
    The door banged open and Pak strode to the room, his anger tightly marshaled behind the impassive round mask of his face. The bedroom was cluttered with torn posters on the walls, empty beer and soda cans on the floor, and piles of laundry, cast-off clothing, and dirty sheets.
    O’Malley lay naked in the bed with two naked women, the dark-haired one astride his hips, the other one at his side. As Pak stormed in, closely followed by Chun Hyon Hee and Gunther Weiss, both women screamed and rolled off the Provo man, clutching at the scattered sheets.
    â€œWhat the bloody hell?” O’Malley shouted, heaving himself up from the pillow on his elbows.
    Pak drew his weapon, a North-Korean-manufactured Type 68 automatic pistol equipped with a long, blunt sound suppressor.
    â€œKim!” O’Malley shouted, trying to scramble over the legs of one of the screaming women and onto the floor. None of the people here knew Pak’s real name, of course. “Kim, you son of a bitch, have you gone completely nuts?”
    â€œTake them aside,” Pak told Chun, gesturing at the two women with the pistol. “By the wall. Keep them quiet. You!” He swung the pistol to aim it squarely at O’Malley’s head. “Out of the bed. Over there. Face to that wall and hands up!”
    O’Malley complied, but his face was flushed dark red with a barely contained fury. “Kim, what the hell is this?”
    â€œWho are they?” Pak demanded. The women’s screams had died down to broken sobs and whimpers now. Chun had them on their knees, hands behind their heads, and was standing before them with her own pistol out. Weiss stood guard impassively in the doorway with an unsilenced 9mm Browning Hi-Power.
    â€œHuh?” O’Malley blinked. “Who?”
    â€œThe women, you fool! Who are they? Where did they come from?”
    â€œAw, fer the love of—”
    Pak jammed the muzzle of his pistol hard into O’Malley’s left kidney. The man gasped and flinched. “Christ! Y’can’t just come in here and—”
    â€œYou would be surprised at what I can do,” Pak said coldly. “Now, for the last time. Who are these women and where did they come from?”
    â€œTh’ brunette’s, uh, Sharon, and the blonde’s . . . what is it, honey? Patty?”
    â€œP-Patricia Summers,” the woman said from the other side of the room.
    Chun rapped her sharply in the side of her head with her pistol, and both women screamed again. “Silence!” Chun said. “He was not talking to you!”
    â€œWhere did you find them, O’Malley?”
    â€œAt a fuckin’ pub! God damn it, Kim, I jus’ brought ’em home fer a little—”
    â€œYou knew the rules. No contact with anyone outside the group until the operation was well under way!”
    â€œBut the operation is under way! C’mon, Kim! Lighten up, man!”
    â€œTurn around. Keep your hands above your head.”
    Slowly, O’Malley did as he was told. The man was scared, but Pak could easily read the anger still in his face. He needed to be broken, and quickly.