Message From -Creasy 5 (13 page)

His
hand was on the door. He turned and gave a half smile.

Then
his face was serious. "Did something happen to you, Susanna?"

"What
do you mean?"

"Today,
at the cafe, I was watching. You were very preoccupied, as though something was
on your mind. Have you got a problem?"

She
smiled and shook her head.

"You
asked me to understand you, Creasy. Now try to understand me. I normally work in an office, totally absorbed in files
and data. Now I find myself in Saigon in company with a bunch of killers. It's
not exactly a normal situation. If I seem different, it's because I am
different. I have to make my own adjustments."

He was
looking into her eyes, holding them as though trying to judge her. Then he
glanced at his watch and said: "We'll leave in an hour."

If she
had combed the hotel bars and Bangkok for a month, she would not have found a
more perfect pair. They had the vanity inherent in every Italian male. But
still they were nervous, perhaps because they were in a situation which they
had never faced before. And they were also visibly excited. The waiter had
preceded them with the bottle of Chateau Latour. She poured the wine in the
spacious lounge. She had left the bedroom door open, and their gaze was
constantly drawn to the Emperor-size bed which was bathed in a strange,
glowing, flickering light. They clinked their glasses and she proposed the
toast.

"To
pleasure!"

"To
pleasure," they murmured.

She
gestured at the two armchairs, and sat back herself on the settee. "To be
perfect," she said, "pleasure has to be prepared. We're going to
spend this one night together and never see each other again. That is part of
the pleasure. There are no consequences."

She
looked at Massimo. "Have you and your brother ever made love to one woman
together?"

His
tongue moved over dry lips as he shook his head. She turned to the younger
brother. "How would you go about it, Bruno?"

He took
a sip of his wine. He glanced at his brother and answered: "Perhaps we
should take it in turns."

She
lifted her head and laughed. "How boring! Since you have so little
experience, I shall be the choreographer tonight. We will make a dance to
remember. And at the end of it, the moment of pure pleasure will come at the
same time for all of us. You'll be guided by me. You'll do exactly what I tell
you. If you fail to do that, the evening will end immediately, and I'll go and
look for men who are truly men. In my experience only a real man has the
capacity to be guided in pleasure by a woman. If you were not here at this
moment, you would be out with a couple of whores, instructing them to your own
desires. This will not be like that. Tonight you'll discover the reality of
pleasure."

She
drained her glass and in one flowing movement stood up, reached behind her and
unzipped her dress. The silk fell to her ankles. She allowed them to look at
her naked body for half a minute, then she said: "Follow me."

And she
walked into the bedroom.

There
were candles on every flat surface and the air was filled with the scent of
musk and incense. She pointed to the foot of the bed.

"Massimo,
sit there. You'll watch and do nothing."

She
turned to Bruno. "Take off all your clothes."

She
eased herself onto the bed and pushed the pillows high behind her head. They
did as instructed. Bruno had a thin, wiry body with thick black hair on his
chest and his arms. He already had an erection. She patted the bed beside her
and he moved and lay down. She took his penis in her left hand while her eyes
were fixed on his brother at the end of the bed. She said: "When I was
eighteen years old, I was a student in Paris. I decided that it was important
for a woman of my nature to have certain skills. I conferred with my mother and
she agreed. She hired the most famous call-girl in Paris to teach me those
skills. I have two degrees from the Sorbonne University, in languages and
philosophy. But I have a more important degree from a lady called Lucette. Let
me show you, Massimo."

She
leant over and ran her tongue from Bruno's chin down his chest and stomach, and
took his penis into her mouth. It was large and long. Very slowly, she took it
all in her mouth, deeper and deeper, until her lips were touching his scrotum.
Bruno moaned in his throat while his elder brother looked on in disbelief. She
lifted her head and looked again at Massimo.

"Be
patient," she said. "You'll have your turn."

She
turned her attention back to Bruno's penis and ten seconds later pulled away as
he ejaculated and rolled over.

She
laughed, again looking at Massimo. "He's just a boy," she said.
"He's never had an orgasm so quickly in his life." She patted Bruno
on the bottom. "Go into the bathroom and take a cold shower and then drink
a glass of that good wine. You'll be ready again in half an hour. Meanwhile,
I'll play with your brother."

Massimo
was older and wiser. As he stepped out of his clothes, he said: "It was a
clever trick, but I saw your right hand. It went between his buttocks and
inside him. You massaged his prostate gland. It's an old trick for a busy whore
with a long line of customers."

She
laughed in appreciation. "You have been to the East before," she
said. "But it's a good thing for a young man to learn the ways of the
world. Your brother will not be so confident again. If he had paid a thousand
dollars for that experience, he would be disappointed now. Let's find out how
you handle things."

She
lifted her hands and touched both her nipples. "The left one is more
sensitive than the right. I want you to start slowly, just with the tip of your
tongue. Take your time. We have hours in front of us."

He
eased on to the bed and moved up along her body and tried to kiss her lips. She
turned her face away.

"The
left nipple. That's where you start. The rest will come later."

Bruno
came out of the bathroom towelling himself. His penis was flaccid. He stood and
watched his brother leaning over the woman. She was watching him, and her eyes
dropped to his penis. It was growing again.

"Go
into the lounge," she said, "and drink some wine. You can watch from
the door."

He
remained standing there. Abruptly she grabbed Massimo's hair, pulled his head
away from her nipples and spat out the words: "Take your kid brother and
get out of here! You know the rules!"

Massimo
pulled his head away and cursed his brother in Italian. Bruno scurried into the
lounge.

"Let
it be the last time!" Connie said. "Now I want your tongue inside me,
very slowly and very carefully."

Massimo
lasted for fifteen minutes. Several times he tried to enter her, but each time
she stopped him with a single word. Finally she made him stand by the bed and
she simply used her hand while looking into his eyes. He tried to hold back but
it wasn't possible. Bruno stood at the bedroom door with a glass in his hand,
watching mesmerized. The sperm came across her breasts and she rubbed it into
her skin, never taking her eyes away from Massimo's.

"That
was the hors d'oeuvre," she said. "Now we will also take a glass of
wine, and then we will see if the combination of two brothers can do better
than the single parts."

They
were instruments and she was the player. She played on Bruno as though he were
a drum, while Massimo was a violin. She positioned them and used them. She used
their hands, their mouths and their penises. She knew exactly when they were
about to have an orgasm, and each time she stopped them, either with a sharp
flick of her finger or a painful squeeze of their testicles. They moaned and
writhed while she laughed. They were unable to differentiate between pleasure
and pain. Finally she took a small bottle of scented oil from the bedside
table. She gave it to Massimo and then she straddled his younger brother and
eased him inside her. She turned and looked over her shoulder at the older
brother.

"Put
the oil on your penis," she said. "We're going to make a
sandwich."

She
felt the pain as he entered her from behind. Then she screamed with pleasure.

"We
will not be going home tomorrow," Massimo said.

"Why
not?" Bruno asked. They were standing in the bathroom.

"Look
at your back," Massimo said, pointing at the mirror.

Bruno
turned and looked, and saw the parallel scratches on his back and the blood
oozing from them.

"I
have the same," Massimo said. "It'll take at least a week to heal.
Our wives would not understand if they saw those marks."

"I
never felt anything," Bruno said.

"Neither
did I, but we got clawed by a cat!"

Susanna
felt no fear. Probably because the whole operation was mounted in such a
matter-of-fact way. It was as though Creasy, Guido and The Owl were simply
going about a routine task. She sat beside The Owl in a rented Toyota van. They
were stationary at the side of a narrow road with the lights and engine turned
off.

The Owl
explained it to her. "Creasy is drinking in a bar two hundred metres
behind us. In three minutes, he'll leave that bar and walk down this
road." He pointed to a narrow alley to the left. "Guido is waiting in
that alley. The follower will be behind Creasy, at about sixty metres. He will
be on this side of the road, because there is more light on the other side.
Just before he gets to the alley, I will jump out and shout something at him.
He will turn, Guido will take him from behind. We will put him in the back of
the van, pick up Creasy and head out of town."

"That
simple?" she asked.

"Yes,
that simple. Guido is very fast. Even if the follower has a gun or a knife, he
won't have time to use them."

It was
that simple. Three minutes later she watched Creasy amble down the road on the
other side from the van. A minute after that a small, dark figure passed them
on the left-hand side. The Owl was holding the door slightly ajar.

He
jumped out and called: "Monsieur!"

The
figure turned and, a second later, a dark shadow loomed up behind it. There was
a dull thump and then no sound at all until she heard the side door of the van
slide shut. The Owl jumped back into the front seat and casually turned the
key. The van moved forward a hundred metres and Creasy emerged from the shadows
and also went into the back. The Owl turned off onto To Doe Street and slowly
drove out of town.

The
journey lasted half an hour, and during that time Susanna's trepidation grew.
She kept recalling Creasy's words back at the hotel and tried to find comfort
in them; but deep down she knew that he and Guido and The Owl were very hard
people. She hoped that the follower would not be stupid. He must realize his
position and talk.

They
turned off onto a dirt track and slowly moved through heavy forest to the
slow-moving river. The Owl pulled up beside a small wooden jetty. There was an
almost-full moon. As she climbed out, she could hear the sounds of the forest:
crickets chirping and birds calling in the trees above them. As she walked
around the van, the side door slid open. Creasy jumped out. He turned and
reached up and lifted the figure of the follower out of the van.

It was
a very slight figure, dressed in black jeans and a dark-blue shirt. His arms
and feet were bound with black tape. He had a rope tied under his armpits and a
large stone was tied to his feet. His mouth was shut by a strip of tape. She
could see the fear in his eyes. Guido also jumped down, and together they
carried the Vietnamese onto the small jetty. Susanna and The Owl followed. She
said to Creasy: "What are you going to do?"

He
answered: "It's lucky we brought you along. He does not speak English.
Tell him that in a few minutes I'm going to ask him some questions. But first
I'm going to give him a little demonstration...Just to concentrate his
mind." He nodded to Guido.

It
happened very abruptly. Creasy took the end of the rope. Guido picked up the
Vietnamese as though he were a child, and dropped him into the river. Susanna
started forward but The Owl put an arm across her.

"Just
wait," he said.

The
Vietnamese disappeared under the water, dragged down by the weight of the
stone. Seconds ticked by. For Susanna, each one felt like an eternity. She
started shouting at Creasy.

"For
God's sake, he'll drown! What are you doing?!"

Creasy
held up a hand. "Just wait," he said. He was looking at his watch.

Guido
was looking at the angle of the rope. He said: "He's on the bottom. I
guess one minute will be enough."

"We'll
make it two minutes," Creasy said. "Be ready to pump him out."

For
Susanna, those two minutes felt like two months. She tried to move forward
again, but The Owl had both his arms around her. He was surprisingly strong.

Then
Creasy and Guido were hauling up the rope. The Vietnamese came to the surface
shedding water, his whole body shuddering. They pulled him up onto the wooden
planks. Creasy ripped the tape from his mouth and pushed him onto his stomach.
The water was pouring from his nostrils. Very quickly Guido straddled him and
placed the palms of his hands on his back, then started to press rhythmically.
Water poured out of his mouth and his body shook as he coughed chokingly.

Creasy
turned to Susanna. He had a plastic wallet in his hand. He opened it and said:
"His name is Tran Quock Cong. He's forty-three years old and has a wife
and two young daughters. He lives in Cholon. I want to know who hired him to
follow us, and when."

Guido
had picked up the Vietnamese, who was dragging air into his lungs. Creasy said
to Susanna: "First tell him that if he does not answer our questions, he
will go back to the bottom of the river. And that's where he will die."