so."
"You'll
torture him?"
Guido
leaned forward. He said: "It's not likely that we will need to. We use
psychology in such things."
"And
if psychology doesn't work?"
Creasy
said: "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. One thing is sure:
we'll need to know who sent him. Otherwise we're at a dead end."
Jens
had been deep in thought. He lifted his head and said: "Creasy, maybe he's
a plant who may have disinformation."
Creasy
thought about that for just a moment and then shook his head. "It's
faintly possible, but not probable. If they wanted to plant disinformation,
they would not have sent such a professional. They picked a man whom they did
not expect to be noticed or caught. I think he's genuine. Anyway, we'll find
out tonight."
The
drinks arrived. Susanna picked up the tall, frosted glass and rolled it across
her forehead before draining half of the contents. Then she looked at Creasy
and said: "What if he doesn't speak English? After all, he's only in his
thirties and it's been more than twenty years since the Americans left. Not
many of the youngsters here speak English unless they work in specialist
positions with the government. Since he's not working for the government, he
might not speak English. How is your Vietnamese, Creasy?"
Creasy
was slowly shaking his head as though in disgust with himself. He said:
"My Vietnamese is minimal. I should have thought of that. Maybe Billy
Nguyen at the Mai Man Bar can find me a reliable and discreet translator. He
can find most things, for a fee."
Guido
was looking sceptical. Susanna said: "That's a risk you don't need. I had
better go with you."
There
was a long silence. Then Jens remarked: "There could be violence, and you
work for the US government in a very sensitive area."
She
shrugged and answered: "My instructions were to give you assistance. They
were not specific." She glanced at Creasy. "What chances are there of
violence?"
"Very
little. Guido and I are experienced with these things. We're dealing with one
man who will suspect nothing. Even if he's carrying a gun or a knife, he will
have very little chance to use either."
Guido
said: "Maybe we pick him up first and if he doesn't speak English, we'll
call in Susanna."
Creasy
shook his head. "It's too complicated. I haven't worked out the exact plan
yet, but we'll have to take him out of town to a quiet spot. We have to play
that part by ear. If Susanna is going to be in on it, she has to be in from the
start." He glanced again at the reflection of the figure in the window and
made a decision.
"We'll
go with Susanna."
Chapter 21
Connie
Crum lay naked on the vast bed, groaning in pleasure and pain. The girl
straddling her was small enough to be blown away in a gale, but she had fingers
of steel and they dipped and probed into Connie's neck muscles and shoulders.
It was
the start to an evening that had been planned in almost every detail. She had
arrived at the hotel half an hour earlier.
Chilled
pink champagne and a huge bowl of fruit were waiting in her suite. She had
opened the champagne and after taking a few sips had picked up the phone and
ordered a masseuse. The girl had arrived dressed in a white coat and carrying a
small bag. While Connie undressed, the girl had slipped off the coat, revealing
a tight, trim body covered only by brief white panties. She had taken several
bottles of different oils from her bag.
Connie
had given her a glass of champagne before lying face down on the bed. She had
booked the girl for an hour. For the first forty-five minutes the girl had
massaged her body with skill and strength until through the pain Connie had
felt the muscles relax.
She
turned her head and murmured in Thai: "Softer now. Imagine I'm a cat."
The
girl chuckled, and her fingers changed from instruments of power to gentle,
teasing strands. They glided in a continuous caress over the oiled skin.
Connie
Crum's mind and body relaxed. She thought of her dead husband. He had been a
hard, ruthless man,
"You'll
torture him?"
Guido
leaned forward. He said: "It's not likely that we will need to. We use
psychology in such things."
"And
if psychology doesn't work?"
Creasy
said: "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. One thing is sure:
we'll need to know who sent him. Otherwise we're at a dead end."
Jens
had been deep in thought. He lifted his head and said: "Creasy, maybe he's
a plant who may have disinformation."
Creasy
thought about that for just a moment and then shook his head. "It's
faintly possible, but not probable. If they wanted to plant disinformation,
they would not have sent such a professional. They picked a man whom they did
not expect to be noticed or caught. I think he's genuine. Anyway, we'll find
out tonight."
The
drinks arrived. Susanna picked up the tall, frosted glass and rolled it across
her forehead before draining half of the contents. Then she looked at Creasy
and said: "What if he doesn't speak English? After all, he's only in his
thirties and it's been more than twenty years since the Americans left. Not
many of the youngsters here speak English unless they work in specialist
positions with the government. Since he's not working for the government, he
might not speak English. How is your Vietnamese, Creasy?"
Creasy
was slowly shaking his head as though in disgust with himself. He said:
"My Vietnamese is minimal. I should have thought of that. Maybe Billy
Nguyen at the Mai Man Bar can find me a reliable and discreet translator. He
can find most things, for a fee."
Guido
was looking sceptical. Susanna said: "That's a risk you don't need. I had
better go with you."
There
was a long silence. Then Jens remarked: "There could be violence, and you
work for the US government in a very sensitive area."
She
shrugged and answered: "My instructions were to give you assistance. They
were not specific." She glanced at Creasy. "What chances are there of
violence?"
"Very
little. Guido and I are experienced with these things. We're dealing with one
man who will suspect nothing. Even if he's carrying a gun or a knife, he will
have very little chance to use either."
Guido
said: "Maybe we pick him up first and if he doesn't speak English, we'll
call in Susanna."
Creasy
shook his head. "It's too complicated. I haven't worked out the exact plan
yet, but we'll have to take him out of town to a quiet spot. We have to play
that part by ear. If Susanna is going to be in on it, she has to be in from the
start." He glanced again at the reflection of the figure in the window and
made a decision.
"We'll
go with Susanna."
Chapter 21
Connie
Crum lay naked on the vast bed, groaning in pleasure and pain. The girl
straddling her was small enough to be blown away in a gale, but she had fingers
of steel and they dipped and probed into Connie's neck muscles and shoulders.
It was
the start to an evening that had been planned in almost every detail. She had
arrived at the hotel half an hour earlier.
Chilled
pink champagne and a huge bowl of fruit were waiting in her suite. She had
opened the champagne and after taking a few sips had picked up the phone and
ordered a masseuse. The girl had arrived dressed in a white coat and carrying a
small bag. While Connie undressed, the girl had slipped off the coat, revealing
a tight, trim body covered only by brief white panties. She had taken several
bottles of different oils from her bag.
Connie
had given her a glass of champagne before lying face down on the bed. She had
booked the girl for an hour. For the first forty-five minutes the girl had
massaged her body with skill and strength until through the pain Connie had
felt the muscles relax.
She
turned her head and murmured in Thai: "Softer now. Imagine I'm a cat."
The
girl chuckled, and her fingers changed from instruments of power to gentle,
teasing strands. They glided in a continuous caress over the oiled skin.
Connie
Crum's mind and body relaxed. She thought of her dead husband. He had been a
hard, ruthless man,
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