INTRIGUE! on the Orient Express

[ariosto]

http://www.ariosto.homestead.com/files/intrigue_.jpg




The tall man had stopped his pacing and paused to light a cigarette by the last baggage wagon.
He smoked quickly as though his life depended on it. A figure emerged from the shadows behind him, a shorter, broader man.
Even in the failing light Steele could make him out as an army officer. The station at Lyon was packed with them, mobilization was well underway. A sous-colonel most likely and one that fit the bill perfectly.
With a quick look around to make sure no one was watching, he slipped the tiny camera from his trenchcoat pocket and with a silent prayer to the technicrats back at the 'Office', he began to snap pictures....


The blonde woman in the club car was gorgeous, long legs let loose from a revealing black skirt and the inticing 'wherewithal' to fill her cashmere sweater to bursting.
She was also a spy.

"A vodka please, chilled very cold."
Her accent was eastern european, her voice was deep and rich.
She crossed her legs. The frail waiter gulped and hurried off, a dutiful dog already.
Sonja smiled and parted the blinds once again.
He was out there still. Talking to the little colonel. What a fool he was. Her hand caressed her thigh where the six inch stiletto was inconspicuously holstered. She couldn't wait.



August 31, 1715 Hours...la Gare Central, Lyon France

The Legendary train bound from Paris to Istanbul prepares to leave the station. She's crammed full of soldiers, diplomats, tourists, refugees, and espionage agents from a hundred countries. Countries soon to be at war. Europe is on the brink again and everyone knows it....

"All ABoard!..All Aboard!"
Phillipe LeBlanc checks his heavy conductors watch, holding it up by it's gold chain like a pendulum swinging before his bespectacled eyes.
"ALL ABOARD..LAST CALL"

The mighty train expells a cloud of steam, the deep note of it's horn shudders through the station...once...twice.
The conductor sweeps his gaze across the platform...good all clear. He gives the signal.

The Leviathans wheels begin to turn.
Another aching blast into the gathering darkness and she moves into the night...



A closed thread right now for Ari and AriO. More players may be added as we go. PM if your interested.

 

[Arioso]

Sonja Kiraly relaxed in her plush seat in the club car, taking leisurely sips of vodka as her full, red lips lingered on the rim of the glass. She might have looked innocent enough, the sheen of her golden hair as radiant as an angel's light, but she was far from innocent.

In more ways than one.

She was definitely a woman who knew how to use her charms to her advantage -- ruthlessly so. She was still smirking at how quickly her sultry, Hungarian features and shapely calves had reduced the waiter to putty in her hands.

She was also responsible for quite a number of highly sensitive state secrets falling into the wrong hands. Well...or the right hands, given her allegiances. But oh so inconvenient for the diplomats she'd manipulated, and for their fragile foreign policy...

And now...another mission. Another man to beguile...this time over a set of papers. A very dangerous set of papers detailing a prototype for a new weapon that several governments would be quite pleased to get their hands on.

But on this train, she was simply Miss Sonja Kiraly, procurer of art for the (wholly fictive) Count Istvan Laszlofi, returning from a tour of the Parisian galleries. Plausible enough, and it allowed her to travel in style.

As Sonja withdrew a silver cigarette case from her purse and lit it, the man from the platform entered the club car and settled in just a seat or two down from her. Sonja perused him, her eyes roving up and down in a perusal that was just two shades shy of discreet. Their eyes met. She permitted herself a sly half-smile as she slowly exhaled a stream of smoke.

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he watched her observing him.

Finishing her drink, Sonja rose from her seat and sauntered casually past his seat, then on out into the main passenger cars. Now that the train was moving, she could get a better sense of where her intended target was quartered.

She could feel the man's eyes on her as she passed.

Hmm...was it just masculine appreciation? Or had he already made her for what she was? Could it be that she might actually have some competition for the goods this time?

 

[ariosto]

The tall man's name was Luther Bridges, at least it was right now. He'd had many over the years and he wasn't particularly fond of this one but it hadn't been his choice. Luther Bridges, traveling under diplomatic passport to the American Embassy in Istanbul. Purpose?...well the purpose didnt really matter as he'd no intention of going near the place. His fingers closed around the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. A pack that contained four Pall Malls and a very small camera that he hoped had usable images on it, usable enough anyway to start the ball rolling.

"Cognac et café, s'il vous plait...merci."
The waiter hustled away and 'Luther' saw for the first time the statuesque blond sitting a few seats away. He whistled silently to himself and smiled at her. All work and no play as they say...
But she didnt take the bait. Instead she rose from her table and passed by him...close by him. He liked the smell of her perfume just fine. His eyes followed her as she made her way up the long car, swaying slightly to keep her balance as the train thundered down the tracks. Nice ass....
He thought for a moment of following her but decided not to. This was a 'business trip' after all and he'd be well paid at the end of it.. No need for distractions, even one as gorgeous as that.


Phillipe laBlanc watched her too. In fact they had to squeeze by each other in the narrow passageway beside the first class compartments. He wasn't impressed by her looks. He'd seen many beautiful women on this train over the years. Vivian Leigh had been a passenger just a month ago.
And besides it wasn't women that turned him on anyway...

The conductor smiled and flattened himself against the window as she passed, but the train swayed hard at that point and she was thrown against him.
"Forgive me Miss Kiraly," He said helping her regain her balance.
"Tight squeeze eh?"
He smiled.

"You know my name?"
Her voice was low, even.

"A good conductor knows who's on his train. May I help you to your compartment?"

She declined politely and moved on. He watched her and wondered.
They had come in contact only briefly but he'd felt something, something on her thigh. Now why would that lovely woman be carrying a knife in such a place?

 

[Midwest Writer]

cool

cool story so far - keep it up

 

[Arioso]

Sonja Kiraly

As she continued down the corridor, Sonja filed away the conductor's remark about knowing all of his passengers. It could be useful later.

The rhythmic jostling and click of the train's wheels on the tracks added a slight wobble to her otherwise smooth, confident gait...not to mention an alluring sway to the more curved features of her physique.

None of which interested Philippe LeBlanc, who turned and proceeded the opposite direction, heading toward the club car. Although he still puzzled about that suspicious firmness he'd felt against her thigh, as a conductor he had a schedule to maintain, rounds to make, passengers to account for.

With a roar of rushing wind and rattling metal wheels against rails, Sonja passed from one car to another, seeking the compartment where her target should be settled in. Perhaps going over the very papers she had been assigned to steal. Or possibly struggling to shave over the tiny, inadequate sink in his compartment before taking his evening meal in the dining car.

At last, Sonja found it.

A private sleeping compartment marked very discreetly on the door with a paper placard in a chrome-framed slot:

Réservé: Edelmann

Gregor Edelmann. Of interest to the agency that had recruited her because of the potential applications of his research into nuclear fission. Not anything that Sonja understood herself...she knew only that he was a man devoted to his work...who most likely had not had the company of a woman in a long, long time...

She tried the door. A bold gesture, but one she was accustomed to covering with the flustered, apologetic, "Oh dear! I must have mistaken this compartment for mine..."

Not surprisingly, it was locked. However, she jostled it a little, expecting Mr. Edelmann to investigate the situation and provide her with her opportunity for an introduction.

The compartment inside remained silent.

Sonja tugged on the door a little longer...then withdrew. Perhaps Mr. Edelmann had stepped out. So she resolved to wait and watch for his return.

A full hour passed as Sonja stood down the corridor from Mr. Edelmann's door and smoked a few leisurely cigarettes, to all appearances watching the landscape outside when she was really keeping an eye on his compartment. Yet there were no signs of activity.

However, she had been well-trained for her calling. Espionage was often a matter of waiting....so, she waited.

Waited until it was already an hour into the supper service in the dining car. She would have to make a decision. There were appearances to keep up. As an art buyer, traveling on business, there would be no cause for her to miss dinner. Indeed, it would be expected, since mingling with other passengers -- particularly those wealthy and influential enough to travel on the Orient Express -- provided an opportunity to make future business contacts.

And surely, Mr. Edelmann would also have to make an appearance.

So Sonja finally abandoned her watchful post in his car and returned to her own compartment. There, she undressed and slipped into a gown more appropriate for evening dining. It was black velvet, with a tightly fitted bodice that enhanced her ample, womanly charms, and a full, floor-length skirt that hugged her hips yet was loose and sweeping enough to conceal the stiletto strapped to her thigh. Sliding a pair of long, satin gloves up past her elbows, Sonja then donned an elegant, wide-brimmed black hat of the sort that was fashionable in Paris this season. Something that would allow her to survey the dining car while concealing her observant eyes.

As she proceeded to the dining car, Sonja held out the hope that Mr. Edelmann would either already be there (possibly alone, in which case she could ask the steward to seat her at his table), or that the dining car would already be so crowded that when Mr. Edelmann did finally arrive, the natural place for him to sit would be at her table.

It looked like the second of the two options would prove more likely. When Sonja arrived at the dining car and stood just inside the entrance, surveying the tasteful surroundings, her target was nowhere to be seen. An elderly couple sat discussing the weather in Italy as they savored their roast beef platter. A solitary businessman scrutinized the Wall Street Journal while he tucked into what looked like roast pheasant. There were a few young couples scattered at various tables, groups of older men...and, thankfully, one or two empty, linen-covered tables further back.

A very solicitous waiter in the ubiquitous white jacket hastened through the dining car to greet her, inviting her to follow him to an empty table. Sonja glided after him gracefully, noting one or two admiring glances from the older men as she passed. Then, taking her seat on the velvet booth that allowed her to face the entrance to the dining car, she ordered a chilled vodka and a plate of the goulash, and prepared to wait.

It was indeed a mystery what had happened to Gregor Edelmann all afternoon. But Sonja hoped that by watching the comings-and-goings in the dining car this evening, she would acquire a clearer sense of the picture.

Meanwhile....deep in the secluded, dimly-lit baggage car...a man's body lay sprawled, face-down on a large trunk. His throat was red with blood where it had been slit with a smooth blade, the angle of the slash suggesting he'd been surprised from behind...

 

[ariosto]

Luther scrubbed his hands slowly and methodicaly in the tiny stainless steel sink. The compartment was cramped and balance was not easy as the train pitched and swayed it's way through the Rhone valley. No complaint though, first class accomodations were dear but the 'office' seemed to have unlimited resources.
He'd removed his shirt as soon as the door latched behind him and now stood bare chested before the small mirror. The scars were healing nicely but there was still a tightness in his shoulder when he had to exert great strength. It hurt like hell right now.
He sighed, winked at his reflection and turned away.
It was time for dinner and he was hungry.

The woman sitting alone at the far table stood out like an orchid among daisies.
She was the same one he'd noticed earlier and had tried to forget. Such a woman sitting alone for dinner!?
It just wasn't right, not right at all...
What the hell...

"Pardon me the tables all seem taken, would you mind...?"
She looked up under long long lashes and smiled.
"Please..."
She gestured at the chair next to her.
"A dinner companion would be quite nice."


***********************************************

LeBlanc stood over the still form of Gregor Edelmann and pondered what to do. He could stop the train of course at the next station but that was Valence and he had no contacts there. Best wait till Nice. They'd know how to handle this. In the meantime there was the woman. He closed the door and made his way forward through the cars, nodding pleasently at Sonja Kiraly and her tall companion as he passed through the dining car.
He paused in front of first class compartment AA12 and selected a key from the ring at his hip.
He slipped inside silently and turned on the light. Miss Kiraly it seemed was a very neat woman.

 

[Arioso]

"It is very fortunate for you that you made it to the dining car when you did," Sonja informed the handsome man -- an investigator, she surmised -- who had just joined her at her table. "I overheard the waiter telling another table that the kitchen will be closing in twenty minutes."

As if the mere mention of the word 'waiter' had magical powers, a white-coated server appeared to take her companion's order. Sonja prevailed upon him to bring her another vodka as well.

When the waiter withdrew, her rather gruff-looking, broad-shouldered dining partner lit a cigarette and observed, "You have an interesting accent. Czech?"

Sonja arched a smoothly sculpted eyebrow as her full, red lips curved into a sly smile. "Hungarian. From Szeged, actually."

She reached into her purse for her silver cigarette case and then brought one to her lips. Then, gazing into the man's eyes rather suggestively, she leaned forward over the table just a bit, holding the cigarette delicately between two slender fingers.

On cue, he produced a lighter and allowed himself a lingering, appreciative glance as she leaned closer and held the end of her cigarette in the flame. His pupils darkened when she casually let her fingers brush against his hand. Such a small touch, yet startlingly intimate.

With a wry half-smile, the man remarked, "If we're going to be dining together, I suppose the proper thing to do would be to introduce myself. The name's Bridges. Luther Bridges."

Sonya leaned back and let the smoke whisper out between her lips. Inclining her head in acknowledgment, she said, "It is a pleasure to meet you Mr. Bridges. And I am Sonja Kiraly."

She eyed him as they exchanged the usual pleasantries. That he was ruggedly handsome, there was no doubt. Tall, broad, and very muscular (she suspected) beneath his dapper suit, he had nonetheless moved with a telling stiffness when he'd entered the dining car. He'd gotten out of a tight scrape recently, perhaps. From the line of his suit, she couldn't detect a concealed revolver, although that didn't mean he didn't have one. His accent sounded American.

This one could be...quite pleasant to distract from his mission...if that were called for. But she still didn't have enough of a sense of him...

"So...if you're from Hungary, then you must be going home," Mr. Bridges guessed with a brash smile. His expression had grown bolder...from the appreciative way his eyes roamed over her every now and then, Sonja had the distinct impression that he was silently undressing her.

And she wasn't above using that to her advantage. Beneath the table, she uncrossed then recrossed her legs...taking pains to brush against his as she did so. When she'd rearranged herself, she let her calf hover right next to his leg.

"Yes, I am. I've just finished a business trip, examining some potential art purchases for my employer," Sonja lied smoothly, taking a sip of vodka. Then, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes on Mr. Bridges with a sultry expression of feminine interest, she prompted, "And you, Mr. Bridges? What has led you to journey on the Orient Express?"

*******************************************

There was very little out of the ordinary in compartment AA12. Then again, LeBlanc knew he wasn't an investigator, and while it was his job as conductor to be observent, he had no training for investigating murder.

Still, Miss Kiraly would very likely be at dinner for at least another hour...

As methodically as he knew how, LeBlanc searched through her tiny cabinets and closet. There were several very elegant changes of clothing, which wasn't surprising for a woman traveling first class. Perfume bottles...beauty products...shoes....all terribly feminine and terribly ordinary.

Then, beneath the mattress of her bed, LeBlanc's hand alighted on something flat...papery. He pulled it out and frowned at what he saw.

A map. A rather detailed road map...with every station that the train would be stopping at clearly marked. It was a strange thing for a passenger to have on the train, especially of the passenger intended to continue nearly the full length of the route.

Suspicious indeed, but still not proof of murder.

LeBlanc resumed his search beneath the mattress. He found a portfolio with some correspondence in it -- letters, telegrams, but all in Hungarian, which he didn't speak. Why would Miss Kiraly have hidden this beneath her mattress?

Furrowing his brow, LeBlanc debated whether it would be better to return these items to their hiding place and simply keep an eye on Miss Kiraly's activities...or confiscate them and confront her...

 

[ariosto]

No it wasn't the moment for the denoument, the finale...not yet. Her ticket was through to Istanbul. There was pleanty of time to watch and see. Pleanty of time...
LeBlanc carefuly replaced everything. She'd never know. He was an expert at such things afterall.
He looked at his watch. She'd be at dinner yet a while.
He smiled and opened the second drawer of the compact bureau. A smell of lilacs and tantalizing femininity greeted him, his hand slipped inside and he closed his eyes, silks, lace, sensuous almost fluid sheer fabric. Heat suffused his body, he drew out a smoke hued negligee, held it up to his cheek, breathed in the perfume and got an erection.
The conductor unbuttoned his trousers and let them fall to his ankles. He carefully wrapped the dark silk around his cock and swaying to the rhythm of the train, masturbated into the small stainless steel sink.
A splash of hot water washed away the pearly evidence and he wiped himself clean with bathroom tissue, flushing it down the toilet. A last check of the delicate lingerie revealed no telltales and he carefully folded it and put it away.

Button up, straighten up, let yourself out.
He smiled as he locked the door.
Fifteen minutes, very efficiant.

************************************************


"And you, Mr. Bridges? What has led you to journey on the Orient Express?"
Luther was very aware of the undertable byplay of leg and thigh.
He had responded as any man would. The tightness in his trousers was growing by the minute.

"I'm with the embassy in Istanbul. Nothing important really, pretty much a courier."
He smiled and laid his hand on her thigh.
She smiled back and didn't draw away.
"It sounds very exciting, do you ride this train often?"

Her fingers had closed over his now, her leg pressed close
"Not often...but I'm never disapointed when I do."

"Never, Mister Bridges?"
She leaned close, the smell of her perfume made him heady...Be careful Luther...
Her hand had moved to his thigh and now lay in tantalizing proximity to the aching erection.

"Almost never...almost."
He fancied he could see the coral rim of an areola down in the shadowed curve of her breasts.
She wasn't wearing a bra.
No fair. No fair at all.

 

[Arioso]

Sonja did enjoy this part of her...work.

It was a dangerous game, she knew. The French had executed Mata Hari, after all. But to play this sensual game with men, to toy with them -- ah! It was one of life's great delights.

She could practically feel the heat of Mr. Bridges' gaze on her decolletage. Savoring his hunger, she shivered slightly as her nipples hardened in response.

"Almost never...almost...." he was saying, his voice low and rough.

"I suppose that is why we all travel on the Orient express, yes?" Sonja purred coyly as her hand nudged closer to the tight length she'd sensed straining in his lap. "To travel in perfect comfort...have everything we desire right at our fingertips..."

Her index finger trailed lightly along the bulge that pressed against his trousers...just a hint of contact. But when she met his eyes, something urgent and feral gleamed within, a primal flame sparked by the fleeting brush of her delicate finger.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other. Then the waiter arrived with their food and the spell was broken.

Throughout dinner, though, their mutual seduction grew bolder. And for Sonja, it was only part business. Coaxing secrets from a man as he lay panting and coated in sweat after an amorous encounter was routine for her by now. But it was a true pleasure when the man was like Luther Bridges: tall, no-nonsense, a little rough around the edges. A man she could really sink her teeth into without worrying that he'd flinch like so many of those cosmopolitan, sophisticated diplomats...

At one point, she "accidentally" swept her fork off the table so she could bend forward and give him a nice, long look at the brassiere she wasn't wearing. And sometime around their coffee service, Sonja's hand found its way to his cloth-covered erection again. Almost instantly, Mr. Bridges' hand came down over hers and held it firmly in place.

As the busboy discreetly cleared away their dishes, stealing only a brief glance at where their hands disappeared beneath the linen tablecloth, Sonja inclined her head demurely and said, "Thank you, Mr. Bridges, for being such a stimulating dinner companion. Tell me, would it interfere terribly much with your official duties to escort a lady back to her compartment?"

Luther Bridges' smile was wolflike as he assured her, "Not at all. You never can be too sure about the shady characters you might meet out there."

Sonja arched an eyebrow at him as she held out her hand to let him help her up from her seat. Her stiletto rested smooth and slim against her inner thigh...

 

[ariosto]

LeBlanc knew they were both in her compartment. It was almost predestined in a way. He paused ever so briefly at the door envisioning what might be taking place inside. He smiled and moved on. They'd be in Nice in a few hours and there'd be someone coming aboard that they'd both be very anxious to meet...


*****************************************

Her hands were clenched against the cold glass of the window. Her sweating face pressed hard against it. Beyond rolled the nightshrouded alpine countryside. Luther gripped her naked hips in his hands and drove himself into the tight hot passage of her sex again and again. She gasped and he pulled her tight aginst him' savoring the thrumming vibration of the train, rising through their wide spread legs and centering deliciously on the fevered play of cock and cunt.

He wasn't a man to squander time and he hadn't. Before Sonja could switch the lights on in the close compartment, he'd yanked her skirt up around her waist and was thrusting his hot erection between her legs.
She'd been startled, surprised, she twised around, trying to resist but his lips met hers and his arms crushed her tight against him, stifling her resistance, impelling her to his will.
She didn't seem to mind.
She met his thrusts with counterthrusts' her flesh tight around his. She'd dropped the straps of her gown to give him free play of her breasts which he'd ravished with his strong wide hands. Now on the verge of orgasm he held her like a vice, crushing her against the window of the speeding train, slamming himself ever deeper, his own senses overloading as he approached the ultimate moment...

 

[Arioso]

The glass fogged over as Sonja's breath washed over it in hot, forceful gasps. Sweet mercy, what manner of man was this?!!

She hadn't been caught off guard like this in a long, long time. Luckily, although his sudden, ardent assault upon entry to her darkened cabin had shaken her, Sonja had still had the presence of mind to keep his hands away from the stiletto strapped to her inner thigh. And what better way to keep his hands occupied while she quietly discarded the blade than to ease down the straps of her gown and guide his eager palms to the full, soft swell of her breasts.

Although, in hindsight, that might not have been the safest thing to do. An agent's best line of defense was always a clear, focused mind...and Luther Bridges was rapidly driving Sonja out of hers with the wickedly sensual torment he was inflicting on her nipples. She found herself floating in a haze of pleasure, her deep, guttural moans vibrating in time with the thrust of his cock and the rattle of the rails beneath the train.

"Ohhhh..ooohhhh yesssss!"she breathed, her voice purring with pure, female heat.

"Mmm," Luther grunted against her neck, "so there's a real woman beneath this high-class dress."

Sonja snapped her head around to bite him lightly on the jaw, both a warning not to push her...and a clear sign that she was warming up quite nicely to everything he did to push her.

--------------------------

LeBlanc withdrew his passkey and let himself into Gregor Edelmann's compartment, having decided it would be wise for him to have more information about the dead man.

Like Miss Kiraly's cabin, it was deceptively bare of personal effects. No doubt the Inspector at Nice would be able to cull a few relevant details, though.

When he checked beneath the bed, LeBlanc spied a brown leather briefcase.

It was locked.

Arching an eyebrow, LeBlanc considered trying to spring the lock, but thought better of it. His suspicions, however, were definitely aroused.

Returning the briefcase to its hiding place, LeBlanc made sure that he left everything as he'd found it and let himself out.

----------------

Sonja rested her sweaty brow against the window, her chest still heaving from the powerful release that had thundered through her. She could feel Luther's warm spunk leaking out of her and trickling down her thigh. He'd pulled out only after resting inside a full fifteen minutes after emptying himself into her depths, his firm, muscular body pressing up close to hers, flattening her into the wall. Now, he was kissing his way down her back, slowly squatting down...

Abruptly, his voice was right at her ear, low and menacing.

"So, Miss Kiraly...why would a nice lady like you be hiding a stiletto under her dress? Surely this isn't Paris fashion..."

As he spoke, Luther trailed the cool, deadly blade up her belly and along the valley between her breasts.

 

[ariosto]

Luther watched her nipples go taught again as the cold sharp edge of the blade caressed the contours of her breasts. Was she one of those who became aroused with whispering kiss of the knife? He'd known of one, a French agent named Clair. Too bad he'd had to....

Her hand closed on his wrist, staying the play of the stiletto.
"Your good." she said.
"I never felt you slip it out of the sheath."

He smiled inspite of himself at the entendre implied.
"Is that good? I hope at least you felt me slip it in."

Her other hand snaked up behind his neck and drew him down till their lips met. He hadn't kissed her before but now he did, long and deep. His cock still wet with jism, stirred and began to throb against her belly. The knife hand still tightly clasped in hers was locked between the tight curves of her breasts. Her long legs rose up and encircled him, locking tightly behind his back. She began moving beneath him, repositioning until he felt the
tip of his resurrected erection, probing into the damp warm folds of her cunt.
Goddd...
She went iron hard and twisted like a python on a hook!
He was caught unawares, counteractions..too late.
She was on him. Her thighs clenched tight around his hips, the stiletto now in her hands at his throat and his cock buried eight inches into her body!
Was she going to kill him or fuck him?


**************************************************

Le Blanc walked slowly back along the train, through the cars smiling politely, nodding pleasently. For all the world the model of the chief conductor on the most famous train in the world. His mind though was flying. When they got to Nice a plan of action would need to be in place. The 'Inspector" would demand that.
It was hard to concentrate though. The memory of the smell and feel of Miss Kiraly's lingerie kept interfering.
When it was over he told himself. When it was over he'd have pleanty of time to play with her in any way he wished...

 

[Arioso]

For the moment, she had him. And Sonja intended to press her advantage.

Mr. Bridges hadn't made any accusations yet, despite his discovery of her knife, so there was still time to cultivate his impression of her, to conceal her identity as a spy beneath the more alluring image of the dangerous woman, the woman of dark, dangerous tastes.

Which wouldn't be very difficult. Sonja did like her sex rough. Not to the point of enjoying knives, but she could certainly play the part...enough to lead Mr. Bridges away from any speculation about the real reason she might be carrying a stiletto.

"Isn't it interesting how people's own weapons can be turned against them, Mr. Bridges?" Sonja purred as she held the tip of her knife against his carotid artery and squeezed his cock inside her. Her muscles clenched slowly and inexorably, like a python crushing its prey.

His only reply was a low hiss, part surprise, part pleasure.

"Of course, I prefer to use the art of persuasion to get what I want," she continued, gradually relaxing her inner walls as she rose up on her knees. Luther's meaty shaft slid deliciously against her flesh as she pulled up to his tip.

With a sudden, swift motion, she plunged downward, her ass slapping against his thighs. The stiletto remained poised at his throat. Despite the feel of cool steel pressed into his vulnerable flesh -- or perhaps because of it -- Luther swore deep and low.

"FUCK!!"

Sonja smiled wickedly at him, her silky hair now spilling down over her shoulders. "That's right, Mr. Bridges. Fuck me. You were so hell bent on discovering what I've been keeping beneath my dress. Now it's your turn. Let's both see what you have to offer."

Her hips thrust in wild, violent jolts, punctuating her otherwise calm demands. Driving him deeper and deeper into her tight, wet passage, swallowing him whole, just like a snake might devour a mouse.

Such a sweet, deadly game! Sonja's cheeks flushed with the exhiliration of having him at her mercy, of baiting him with a knife to his throat and his cock buried in her cunt. Tender seduction might have its place, but nothing, nothing got her blood flowing quite like this. She could feel the primal lust pounding in her chest, burning in her belly, stinging her skin like fire. Her lips and her nipples were swollen, wanton with desire as she rode Luther Bridges, taunting him with her body and her words.

"Come on, is that all you can do?" she growled, her eyes flashing a challenge as he lay beneath her, his hips pumping only occasionally.

Without warning, Luther slammed his powerful hips up just as Sonja was coming down, driving his meaty cock into her with such brute force that it tore the release screaming out of her.

"Ohh Godddddddd!!!" she cried. Her lungs ached, as if the cry of ecstasy was part of her being ripped from her flesh, or a pleasure so great that it swelled and burst right through her skin.

For a brief, split second, her grip on the stiletto wavered and she squeezed her eyes shut in utter bliss...

 

[ariosto]

For the second time that night he was climaxing into her body. The fact that he was doing it at the point of a knife didn't matter. If anything it added a bizarre 'spice' to the vilolent orgasm.
He had sense enough to take her wrist and move the blade from his throat as she arched back in shuddering response.
The last of his seed pulsed hotly into her cunt and he rose up suddenly, forcing her back against the cold metal of the compartment wall.
The dark landscape was rushing by at 70 miles per hour a few feet away. He leaned over and kissed each taught nipple, then bit them long enough to make her moan.

"That was nice." He said, "Shall we go for three?"

"I think I should kill you."
She murmered into Luther's tousled hair as she drew his head down to her breasts.
"But I like the way you fuck."

His tongue began to describe lazy circles around her upright rosebuds, his fingers found the moist nub of her clitoris, his cock began to stir to life inside her as the train rocked beneath them and the miles melted away with delicious slowness...

*******************************************

Inspector Armand Lavassere was a loyal servant of the state.
He'd joined the army in June of 1914 at the age of 17 and had
spent 4 hideous years in the trenches of the western front.
He'd seen horrors beyond imagining.
He came out of it all a cripple. The physical wounds had healed. The emotional ones never would.
He hadn't had a good nights sleep or a healthy erection in over 20 years.
His life was his job, his job was his life.
He found out and terminated spies and other undesirables for the the greater glory of France and had done well at it. He had medals in his Paris apartment to prove it.

LeBlanc, carrying the inspectors luggage nodded at the compartment door as they passed it.
"In there." he whispered, "They've been fucking like rabbits for 5 hours now. They'll have to come out for air pretty soon."

 

[Arioso]

His teeth. Goddd, his teeth!

Sonja nearly wept from the shudders of pleasure that pulsed out from her nipple as Luther slowly bit down and worried the fleshy nub with his tongue. Their bodies had been locked in a sensual dance all night. She'd long since dropped the knife, and now Luther had her folded back on herself, thighs splayed out on either side of his hips and her shoulders resting just over her heels as he bent her upper body like a bow, drawing her smooth breasts up toward his mouth with eager hands. As he roughly groped one upswelling mound with his palm, his mouth devoured the other, lips tugging and sucking on a flushed, stiffened nipple.

There was nothing wrong with enjoying her work...nothing...

"Aiiee....oohhHHHHgodddddddDDDD....ohyesohyes...justlikethat"

Luther had devoted hours to discovering just how hard he had to bite to turn her sharp cries of discomfort to groans of pure, feminine lust. With each delighted yelp, Sonja thrust her hips wantonly against his, riding him with a fevered gusto that had her breasts bouncing atop her arched torso. Like a glutton, Luther bent down over the writhing, eager woman draped across his knees and glutted his appetites on her brazenly offered body.

His skill in uncovering the secrets of her body in so short a time should have been a warning that she was dealing with a formidable opponent. But while Sonja may have noted this on some level, her mind was to busy bursting with light and thunder to really register it.

In fact, the only thought that Sonja was dimly aware of was that this was the first time in years that she'd been fucked nearly to exhaustion.

------------------------

It was near dawn when Sonja slipped out of her compartment to smoke a cigarette near one of the windows that had been left lowered through the night. She could catch the scent of lavendar and sea air...they must be somewhere down near the Cote d'Azur by now...perhaps as far as Nice, close to the Italian border.

The sky was still dark, a silvery gray hue that matched her silk negligee and the sheer kimono-style robe that she wore over it. As she closed her kiss-swollen lips around the slim cigarette and inhaled, Sonja closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. She'd completely lost herself last night, let herself drown in the arms of Mr. Luther Bridges...but today was a new day, and she had some papers to steal.

"It is quite early to be up, is it not, Miss Kiraly?"

The voice of the conductor, LeBlanc, snapped Sonja out of her quiet reflection. As she exhaled a faint cloud of smoke, she glanced at him and saw that he was not alone.

A dour, hardened man stood with him. A veteran of the great war, from the looks of him. Worse still, he had the edgy-stoic air of someone in her line of work. Another player...

He didn't flinch, didn't so much as blink, when Sonja let her eyes flicker briefly over his form.

"Permit me to introduce Monsieur l'Inspecteur Lavassere, Mademoiselle. If it is not too much trouble, we would like to discuss a rather delicate matter with you," LeBlanc continued.

Sonja arched an eyebrow as she extended her hand toward Levassere...and noted that the seconds stretched out as she waited...and waited...realization dawning that the inspector was a man who cared little for formalities or pleasantries...

 

[ariosto]

Luther lay on the narrow bed a full minute after she'd closed the door. Thank god for cigarettes he thought as he rolled off and slipped back into his trousers.
There was no point in searching the compartment, the woman was far to smart to leave a clue.
He had her pegged 90% as a Soviet agent but there was always a chance he could be wrong...a bare chance....but.

She smoked as a Central European would, holding the cigarette with her finger tips. One of the long butts in the ash tray should do fine for a print or two. He slipped a few into his pocket and put on his shirt.

Dawn was breaking outside the speeding train and there was a hint of gold and rose on the high peaks around them. They seemed to be heading due east now, towards the border and the land of Il Duce. Luther couldn't see it but he knew the blue mediterranian was racing by on the other side.

He was nonchalantly looking through the tiny closet when the door opened suddenly behind him.

"Mister Bridges."
It was the ratfaced conductor LeBlanc.
"Mister Bridges, can you come with me please. Miss Karily seems to have run into a bit of trouble."

 

[Arioso]

Sonja sat in the conductor's private office in the lead car of the train, steeling her nerves to keep calm. She couldn't afford to give herself away, not when exposure could earn her a death sentence for espionnage...or even worse treatment by her comrades back home were she to be delivered, in disgrace, back into their hands.

LeBlanc, that smug little weasel, had left for a moment to fetch Luther Bridges. He'd been different once they'd stepped into his office -- his domain. Just a little more arrogant, like the ruler of a petty fiefdom in his own court.

But even his bureaucratic arrogance and his oddly intimate glances at her smoke-grey negligee would have been preferable to being left alone with Inspector Lavassere. The man was as cold and unyielding as steel.

"You are in quite a bit of trouble, Miss Kiraly," the inspector declared, his expression almost inhumanly blank.

"Oh?" Sonja remarked coolly, studying him as discreetly as she could. "And how is that?" The cabin was still a little chilly in the early morning hours. Though her nipples pressed stiffly against the silk of her gown and robe, the inspector didn't even spare her so much as a fleeting, appreciative look. Nor did he seem remotely intrigued by the faint, wet stains that had formed in a few patches where Luther's pearly release had leaked out of her and soaked into the negligee.

"Tell me, what do you know of a passenger named Gregor Edelmann?" Lavassere inquired. Sonja's heart skipped a beat at the question, but outwardly she did no more than release a quiet, shaky sigh.

Feigning innocence, she shrugged and answered, "Nothing. I really haven't made the acquaintance of many other passengers."

A cruel sneer revealed Lavassere's teeth, sharp and predatory. "But you seem to have made a very close acquaintance of at least one gentleman. And perhaps two? It is possible that you have been working your way through the train, starting with Monsieur Edelmann."

Sonja seized her opportunity to play the injured woman and make her escape....even if it meant jumping from the train when it slowed for the next curve. Rising swiftly from her seat, her eyes flashing, she exclaimed, "How dare you make such a vulgar insinuation. I don't have to sit here and be insulted."

Her head snapped to the side from the force of the slap that Lavassere delivered. Faster than she'd been able to see, he'd surged up from his own chair and silenced her with a sharp blow that sent her plunging back into her seat. Yet no tears fell from her eyes: she'd suffered worse before in her line of work.

However, Lavassere gripped her golden hair and yanked her head back, forcing her to look him in the eye. Her entire cheek was red with the print of his hand and smarted painfully.

"Save your theatrics; when I want entertainment, I'll let you know. You should be worried about your life, my dear. Don't forget how we treat a Mata Hari in France -- for all her seduction, she still went before the firing squad," he warned.

Sonja half expected him to slap her again, but at that moment, LeBlanc entered the room with Mr. Bridges in tow.

 

[ariosto]

LeBlanc closed the door behind him, enclosing all four of them cozily in the small compartment.

"So this is Miss Karely's new 'acquaintance.'"
Lavassere sneered out the words.

LeBlanc nodded.
"Yes Inspector, they've been together most of the night."

The big man nodded and leveled his gaze on Bridges.
"You have papers?..Let me see them."

Luther shrugged. "I'm afraid your pal didn't give me time to go to my compartment. Hell,
he barely gave me time to get my shirt on!"

"Sit down, Mister Bridges. I know who you are." Lavassere pointed at the narrow settee.
Bridges settled in next to Sonja without looking at her.
"You have me at a disadvantage then. I don't know who in the fuck you are."

"Such language, shame on you."
Le Blanc interupted,
"This is Senior Inspector Lavassere of Securitie, show him respect please."

Luther snorted..."Yeah, you bet.
Christ I need a cigarette."
He turned to Sonja.
"You got a smoke honey?"

"Ahh you do know Miss Karely then."
Lavassere was staring intently at both of them.

"I guess you could say that."
Bridges took the Chesterfield from Sonja.
'Since she's my fiance. We'll be married
in Venice day after tomorrow."

 

[Arioso]

Sonja, ever the consummate actress, kept her hand steady as she lit Mr. Bridges' cigarette. His fiance?

It wasn't the lie itself that surprised her so much as the fact that this man, this stranger, would be covering for her. He'd discovered her knife, after all...

LeBlanc and Levassere regarded them both with cold, stern skepticism.

"Your fiance?" LeBlanc remarked at last, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Then I take it you were celebrating the honeymoon early?"

"What my future husband and I do in the privacy of my own cabin is none of your business," Sonja interjected smoothly. Mr. Bridges had offered her an escape, so she played along and placed her slender hand in his, cultivating the appearance of a devoted lover.

The Inspector's arm raised up slightly, as if he wanted to slap her again, but a warning frown from Luther Bridges held him off. Fixing Sonja with an icy stare, Levassere said instead, "But murder is my business. Another passenger on this train, a Mr. Gregor Edelmann, was found with his throat slit in one of the baggage cars, Mademoiselle. Tell me, why were you seen attempting to get into his private compartment?"

Sonja's eyes widened. She'd been seen? "I...I...there must be some mistake..."

"Of course there's a mistake, sweetheart," Luther broke in. He pressed closer to her, his body looming alongside hers like a shield, as he directed a bold, challenging gaze toward their two interrogators. "What compartment number was this fellow staying in?"

"That is confidential--" LeBlanc began, only to be cut off by Luther's aggressive cross-examination.

"If my fiance is being accused of murder, she has a right to defend herself. What was the compartment number?"

"Number 12," LeBlanc grudgingly conceded.

"You see there? My compartment is number 21. I'd asked Sonja to meet me there, but she must have confused the numbers," Luther asserted, turning toward her and offering a sly, indulgent smile. "That's why we ended up in her compartment. I don't have a problem with numbers. But just because she does, it doesn't make her a murderer."

Sonja bit back a chuckle at how deftly Mr. Bridges had taken control of the situation. Americans certainly had a talent for talking circles around others when they wanted to.

Within another few minutes, he was hustling her out of LeBlanc's private office, and neither she nor the other men had gotten so much as a word in edgewise. A scowling Levassere had insisted that there would be another such "interview" in the near future...when he'd gathered more evidence...but nonetheless, he didn't prevent them from leaving.

As soon as they were back in her cabin, Sonja murmured quietly, "Thank you. You didn't have to do that. And don't worry, I won't hold you to anything...by the time we reach Venice, I won't be your problem any more."

Luther shook his head and cut her off, stepping so close that his chest pressed against hers.

"Save it, sweetheart," he growled, looming down over her. "There's just one thing I want to know...."

 

[ariosto]

Lavassere tapped his meaty fingers on his knee and stared out the window abstractedly.
LeBlanc cleared his throat...
"They're lying."

"Of course they are."
The Inspector frowned. "I've seen the woman before."

The conductor stood patiently by the door, hand on the knob.

"You can go LeBlanc, but I want the woman bck here before we cross the border. And I want her alone.
Do you understand?"

*************************************************


Luther's hand had knotted into her hair, drawing her head sharply back.
"Who the fuck are you?"

Sonja tried to twist away but he was pressing her against the compartment wall.
"Sonja Karily, I told you who I am. Now let me go.... Luther, let me go!"
Her voice had an edge of alarm. Bridges if anything was gripping her more tightly than ever.

"Did you kill Edelmann?"
Her breasts were pressed tight against his chest. She could feel his cock pressed hard against her belly..was he aroused by all this?!

She didn't answer and he struck her, a short hard slap that stung and brought tears to her eyes.

"Goddammit."
He said releasing her and collapsing onto the narrow bed.
"If you did, then you've terminated my assignment for me."

Sonja rubbed her cheek and glared at him.

He began to unbuckle his belt.
"I was supposed to kill him too and since you've saved me the trouble that means you had to know who he was...
Luther sat up and took off his shirt.
"And if you know that then I have to shut you up. But first...
He grinned for the first time,
"I'll need to fuck your brains out one more time."

 

[Arioso]

"I didn't kill him," Sonja insisted through clenched teeth as she lay sprawled on the bed, her cheek still red and burning from Luther's slap.

Her heart raced as she watched him undress, fear mingling with lust as her mind frantically attempted to plot the possible outcomes. What did he mean, shut her up? Was he going to fuck her and then kill her? How could she escape?

Suddenly, he was on her, straddling her chest, his raging cock looming before her face.

"Let's try this again -- how do you know Edelmann?" Luther demanded curtly, his powerful hand cupped at the base of Sonja's skull.

"I...I don't know anything about him," Sonja lied, her gaze faltering as Luther stared down at her.

A wolfish grin spread across his rugged face. "Wrong answer, sweetheart. If you're not ready to tell the truth, I'll put that lying little mouth of yours to better use."

Sonja let out a startled whimper as Luther rammed the full length of his meaty cock past her lips, straight to the back of her throat. Gripping her head with both hands, he pumped his hips, relishing the wet heat of her unwilling mouth as he eased into a good, hard fuck. Her nostrils flared and her eyes widened as she struggled to breathe and adjust to his rhythm.

"So, what's it going to be?" Luther pressed, half-hoping that she'd still refuse to talk so he could keep driving his cock into her sweet mouth. "You going to tell me why you're really on this train, or would you rather keep sucking me?"

When Sonja groaned around his shaft, Luther reluctantly pulled out to give her a chance to speak.

"What would happen to me if I told you anything is far worse than having to suck a man's prick," Sonja panted, glaring defiantly at the man who had her pinned beneath him.

Luther met her glare with his own, heated stare and rammed his cock right back down her throat. Fine...if she wanted to play this the hard way, he was game. There were plenty of ways he could use her body to crack the truth out of her...

******

Levassere paced in LeBlanc's private office -- alone, thankfully, now that that sniveling conductor had left to make his rounds. It gave Levassere room to think.

Where had he seen the Kiraly woman before? There was something about her face...how she carried herself...

As the blue waters of the Mediterranean rushed by, Levassere gazed steadily out the window, his disciplined, meticulous mind going over every detail...every memory...

He narrowed his eyes as a majestic villa came into view and then fell away as the train zoomed past it. It had been at a villa...that's where he'd seen her...and now that he recalled, she hadn't been the elegant, poised lady she pretended to be now...no, he'd seen her stark naked...but whose villa had it been?...who'd been keeping her?...

 

[ariosto]

Comte Francoise Roland deBezier, watched the train race by the sharply angled front window of the Ferrari , looking closely for the sign.
There it was, fifth compartment window as she'd said, blinds down and a small white circle of paper taped to it. She was aboard then and with the information he needed so badly.

Whipping the sleek black roadster around in a Uturn, he slipped onto the Grande Corniche and raced towards the border. He had it all timed precisely. He should arrive at the crossing just in time.

As the car sped east he thought again of that night at his villa and the unbeleivable acts that Sonja Kiraly had performed. His cock grew hard at the memory.

**********************************************

In the fifth compartment, Luther was emptying his load of cum into Kiraly's mouth. It hadn't taken him long, the stimulus of having her helpless beneath him had brought him to a fast and ferocious climax. Thick hot spend coated her lips and cheeks and she was gasping for air as he rubbed his erection back and forth across her face.
She struggled to rise but his weight was too great. His big hands closed around her tits and squeezed, squeezed hard. She hated it but could not keep herself from becoming aroused at the rough treatment. She also hated that it so obviously showed.

He laughed and leaned close, his mouth closing over the engorged, sensitive tips of her breasts. First tongue movemnt, quick and skilled...Sonja shivered in heat. Then sucking...then the sharp bite of his teeth. She cried out but muffled her own voice in the muscle of his shoulder, biting down in return.

Luther was trying again, unsuccesfully to sort out his mission from his intense arousal and failing. As her hands closed around his wet turgid cock they both heard the deep resonant horn of the train as it blasted a warning to the station up ahead and felt the rocking vibrations as it began to slow. The border was only a kilometer away.

 

[Arioso]

She only had a few moments. The train slowing was her signal. He would be waiting.

Sonja had the information that he wanted, but it wouldn't be what he expected.

"What the--??" Luther muttered, reluctantly pulling his teeth away from Sonja's puckered, swollen nipple. He raised himself up on powerful arms and peered out the window. They hadn't quite pulled into the station. An unscheduled stop?

Too suspicious.

Getting up, Luther slipped on his trousers and shirt. With a stern glance at Sonja, who lay sprawled and sweating on the bed, her face plastered with his cum, he warned, "Stay here. I'm going to check it out."

Sonja watched him leave. She listened for his footfalls to move down the corridor before she leaped into action. A quick splash of water on her face...a trench coat...then out the window...

--------------------

deBezier relaxed in his Ferrari, watching the train's engineers shout at the old peasant he'd paid to stop his cart across the tracks. The wily old farmer was definitely earning his 500 francs. He'd even brought his daughter with him, and her shapely form was definitely distracting at least a few of the frustrated personnel. A consummate gambler, the Comte observed a heavy-set, grimy engineer, eyeing her lustfully while his superior barked indignant commands at her father, and deBezier tried to calculate the odds that the girl might actually lure the big engineer away for an illicit tryst...and further delay the train's progress.

A sudden motion at the passenger side of his Ferrari drew deBezier's attention away from the drama on the tracks and toward the exquisite creature sliding into his car. Very nice. To all appearances, Sonja wore only a trench coat -- he could see her smooth thigh disappearing all the way up...and the bare, sensual curve of her breast peeked out from beneath the coat's lapel. So she'd had to leave in haste...interesting...

"You missed a little, ma chère," deBezier murmured as he wiped a tell-tale, pearly trace from the corner of her mouth and then held his fingertip up to her lips.

Without hesitation, Sonja sucked his finger into her mouth and eagerly licked it clean. How devoted she is. And how wanton...truly born for her calling.

Sonja struggled to curb her lust as she lapped up the remains of Luther's ejaculate from Francois's finger. Tried to conceal the pathetic yearning that radiated out from her very core. Comte Francois Roland deBezier had captivated her like no other....if she weren't so certain that her comrades would kill her for desertion, she would love nothing more than to stay with the comte forever and satisfy his every desire. Serving him was a wicked pleasure...she recalled a particular evening when he'd had her strap on a huge phallus to "interrogate" a reluctant informant...the feral gleam in his eyes as he'd watched her...

Back to business...she was on a mission...

"I learned the name of Edelmann's contact in Vienna," Sonja said after pulling her lips away from Francois's finger. "Klaus Biedermeier. A special attaché from the German government. But I don't think the meeting will happen."

DeBezier arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Edelmann's dead. In fact, there's an inspector on the train who's convinced I killed him...someone named Levassere..."

 

[ariosto]

She was gone. He'd half expected she would be, the only surprising thing was the fact that she'd left everything behind. He picked up her panties and held them against his cheek...everything.

They were still struggling up ahead to clear the tracks. It would take a few more minutes. The old man who'd caused the unexpected stoppage of the Orient, seemed to be doing everything he could, short of poleaxing the poor donkey to delay proceedings.
The big engine panted and wheeezed out a cloud of steam, anxious to go on.

Luther glanced again out the window again and this time he saw her.
She was sitting in the front seat of a Ferarri roadster who's driver was trying to weave his way through the traffic clogging the road beside the train.
Shit! He knew the man, knew him very well indeed and if deBeziers was Sonja's contact then it threw all his carefully worked out hypothesis into a cocked hat.
Bridges slammed out of the compartment stopping at his own only long enough to grab the essesntials and was leaping to the ground just as the big engine began moving forward.
"Now what monsieur?"
He turned to face the somber visage of Lavassere standing behind him.

"They have too good a head start for a man on foot but I have a good idea where they're going and I have a car.
Shall we?"
The small Baretta held in the inspector's beefy hand didn't really give him much choice in the matter.


*****************************************

The conversation died as deBezieres broke free of the traffic and began to challange the twists and turns of the Grand Corniche.
Apalling drop offs seemed to lie just inches from the tires. oncoming lorries seemed bent on colision courses which he avoided by inches! Sonja was both terrified and blindingly aroused. As always with him she was under a spell. Total surrender to his will no matter where it took them....

 

[Arioso]

The wind whipped at Sonja's golden hair as the Ferrari sped along the cliffs toward DeBezier's splendid villa. They made an unlikely pair: he, the scion of a very old and respected aristocratic family; she, a good proletariat and agent provocateur in the vast organization that was the Comintern. And yet, how thoroughly he'd laid claim to her, body and soul.

She felt her heart pound in counterpoint to the engine's aggressive roar -- both of them fully under DeBezier's command.

It had been chance that had thrown Sonja across his path -- or Fate, perhaps. One of her earlier missions -- DeBezier hadn't been her target, but rather an influential guest at his villa. However, within the span of a week, the Comte held her utterly in his thrall. And in the end, DeBezier had had his Algerian valet acquire the information she'd been after while Sonja kept his guest occupied by fucking him over dessert. It had been a decadent act, such as she'd never known before...the silken sheen of her stockings a sinful accent against the opulent table linen and china. The Comte had watched with an artist's eye, sipping a vintage cognac and savoring the sight of her on her back, taking his guest's prick deep and fast in her cunt.

That had been the beginning of their collaboration and of Sonja's insatiable longing for Francois Roland DeBezier.

The Ferrari slowed, snapping Sonja out of her reverie. They had arrived at the villa, it's palatial grounds overlooking the brilliant blue of the Mediterranean. DeBezier pulled his car to a stop at the main entrance, where Kassim, his valet, waited to greet them.

"Have the Ferrari returned to the garage," the Comte instructed him. "We'll be receiving company very shortly."

Sonja glanced at DeBezier questioningly, and he clarified, "If the other interested parties are worth their reputations, they're already on their way here."

As he ushered her into the elegant foyer of his villa, DeBezier added, "Perhaps you should change into something more suitable for entertaining company, my dear."

-----------------------------------------

Levassere was no small-town cop.

Luther's eyes had widened more than once at the resources that the Inspector had at his disposal. A brief phone call had summoned a team of gendarmes who'd discreetly removed Edelmann's corpse from the train and whisked it off to who knew where. He must have radioed for the car, too -- and how he knew so much about DeBezier was a mystery.

"A souvenir?"

Levassere's voice startled him. The man was a machine and didn't seem like the type for small-talk.

"Pardon?" Luther asked.

The Inspector's eyes flicked briefly to Luther's coat pocket then back to the road. "I take it those are Miss Kiraly's?"

Luther glanced down to see Sonja's delicate panties peeking out from his pocket. Before he could answer, Levassere continued.

"Your sentimentality is ill-placed. She and the man who keeps her are a deadly pair....but this time, I have them..."