is, and he went into detail. The more detail he went into, the more excited he got. Then he told me he was going to show me exactly what he meant so I wouldn't forget it, and he raped me.'
'Why didn't you scream if your parents were home?'
'Because I liked it,' she admitted frankly. 'And I still do. Don't you?' She was galloping frantically now.
'Yes.' I felt like I was being raped myself. Fortunately, the cramp in my leg had gotten worse.
'He liked it, too,' Ilona went on. 'He liked it so much that he took me with him when he went back to New York. He arranged for forged papers for me and everything. And when we got there, he got me into S.M.U.T. so we'd have a legitimate excuse to see each other. It was sort of a cover-up for our affair. He was married, you see. I didn't know that until after we got to New York. He didn't tell me until then. But unless he's a bigger liar than I think, he and his wife didn't have much of a sex relationship. If they did, my hat's off to him, because he was insatiable when it came to making love to me.'
'He was telling the truth,' I assured her. 'But just where does he stand with S.M.U.T?'
'Very high. He was the one who gave the orders in New York. Only one or two people in S.M.U.T. knew that. His wife wasn't one of them, either. He played the henpecked cipher with her. But he arranged things through S.M.U.T. so that she was always kept busy when he wanted to be with me. And he wanted to be with me a lot.'
'I can understand that,' I panted, realizing that I couldn't possibly hold out much longer.
'I was crazy about him, and I thought he was crazy about me. But after that bomb today, I am beginning to wonder. And then there was that business with him having S.M.U.T. send me to that brothel. He said that it would be good experience, that I'd learn some new innovations there. But I didn't learn anything I didn't already know. And I think I know enough to get by all right. Don't you?'
'Yeah,' I gasked. 'Did Highman assign the other two girls to the brothel, too?'
'The order came down from him.'
'Did you know the oher two?'
'Not before we went to the brothel. But I didn't get to know them there, either. We were kept too busy.'
'Do you know if one of them was Russian?'
'Russian? Search me.' She relaxed her muscles to expedite the search. 'All I know is,' she admitted bitterly, 'that Highman must have been getting tired of me. I wasn't willing to face it until today. See, I was really hung up on him. But looking back, it's clear. First the brothel, then sending me here to get rid of me. And that cock-and-bull story he told me at the airport about how he was doing it for my own good because my life was in danger in New York. Oh, he promised to join me here all right, but he sure didn't mention anything about having somebody throw a bomb at me.'
'Are you sure he was behind that?'
'If your pinky pal is right, he was. He's pretty high up in S.M.U.T. – more than just running the New York operation. So if S.M.U.T. was behind that bomb, I'm pretty damn sure Highman must have known about it. I guess I'm expendable, all right,' she added bitterly. 'Well, I'll just show him!'
She was going like a Mixmaster again. Her laugh announced the beginning of a new series of joyous releases. This time I couldn't stop myself from joining her. Some six laughs later I slammed up so hard that she cried out, and we went off the deep end together in a burst of cataclysmic ecstasy.
'We have arrived,' Lagula announced, pulling the car into the curb.
'I'll say we have!' I agreed, still up on Cloud Nine.
'I mean we're here.'
'Oh, yes!' Ilona agreed. 'Yes-yes-yes!'
'Don't you want to get out and rest?' Lagula asked. 'The long ride must have tired you.'
'Now that you mention it, I'm exhausted,' I admitted.
'Wouldn't you like to stretch your legs?'
'I've been doing that for the past hour,' Ilona said.
'He said 'stretch',' I explained.
'Oh. Well, all right.' Amazingly, she sounded reluctant.
But she rearranged her dress anyway. I adjusted my poncho, and the three of us got out of the car. We were in front of a small hut on the outskirts of Salisbury. It was Lagula's home, and he ran much of his business as a tourist guide from there. Twilight was descending as he showed us inside.
He fixed us something to eat, and we hit the sack early. Not the same sack. Three different ones. But it wasn't long before Ilona crawled into mine. I was beginning to appreciate why Highman might have wanted to ditch her. She was insatiable. If he'd had her as a steady diet, she must have been quite a drain on his energies. I couldn't see how he'd had any strength left for S.M.U.T. It was one whale of a night, and it as nearly dawn before she allowed me to get any sleep at all.
It was close to noon when Lagula shook me awake. Ilona was still deep in dreamland. I envied her.
'I thought I might drive you back to your hotel to get some clothes,' Lagula suggested.
'Yeah. I guess we'll have to do that. I can't keep running around in a poncho.'
'Shall I wake the young lady?'
'Please don't.' I shuddered at the thought of facing any more of Ilona's passion. 'Let her sleep until we get back.'
The trip took us about an hour. We made better time than the afternoon before because it was still early and the traffic wasn't so heavy. I figured Ilona must still be asleep when we returned.
But she wasn't asleep. She wasn't awake, either. She was lying in the middle of the room, a shambles now, like a naked, broken doll. Her body was horribly twisted, the neck broken. Yet there were no visible marks on her. Only her face, with its horrible grimace, seemed to speak of violence. Only her hands, like claws frozen to her ears, gave some hint of the agony through which she must have gone. Only her staring eyes gave mute testimony to the final terror of her death.
As with Prudence Highman, there was no clue to what had killed Ilona. But the twisted flesh was enough to make me sure of one thing. Peter Highman was in Rhodesia, all right. He'd kept his date with his mistress. And somehow, he'd murdered her.
He meant to murder me, too. I was positive of that. He'd kill me as he'd killed Prudence and Ilona if he got the chance. He'd do it in the same way. There wouldn't be a shred of evidence, yet somehow he'd contrive my death.
The question was how?
CHAPTER SIX
There seemed no sense in waiting around for the answer, which would undoubtedly be a killer. Lagula's hut had been fingered, and Ilona's corpse said it was no longer a safe place to hide out. I said as much to my pigmy friend, and he agreed. We left everything as it was and headed back into the center of Salisbury.
'You can't go back to your hotel,' Lagula advised. 'They'll be waiting for a chance to kill you there.'
'Then where can we go?'
'I don't know. I'm trying to think. I'd take you into the native district with me, but your skin would make you too conspicuous there.'
'Maybe we shold split up,' I suggested. 'You'd be safer among your people.'
'My people?' Lagula chuckled. 'You think that because my skin and theirs are black that they are my people. Do you always deal in appearances, Mr. Victor?'
'What do you mean?' I was nettled because he seemed to be laughing at my naivete.
'While my sympathies are with them, the black men of Salisbury are not my people,' Lagula explained. 'We African pigmys are not Negroids as other native Africans are. We are Negrillos, smaller in stature and lighter in color than the average African. The Negrillos originally migrated to Africa from South Asia. But when you speak of 'my people' in that would-be definite way, not even all Negrillos share such a kinship. The two largest pigmy tribes are the Batwas who settled in the great bend of the Congo and the Akkas who live along the banks of the upper Nile. Neither group considers the other 'their people'. And I bear no relationship to either. 'My people' were the Balulwa
