The Seventh Scroll - Smith Wilbur - Страница 70

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playfully for a while in his arms, until his mouth clamped down over

hers. Then she gave herself up to him completely. While he kissed her

his hands ran down her back and over her wet glistening buttocks.

Pressing herself against him she moved her feet apart and spread her

thighs, inviting him to explore the secrets of her body. She groaned

with desire as his hand cupped her sex gently.

Boris felt his anger mingle with the perverse voyeuristic thrill of

watching his own wife being taken by another man. A devil's brew of

emotions bubbled up inside him.

He felt his loins engorging and stiffening almost painfully with

excitement, but at the same time his rage shook him like the branch of a

tree in a gale of wind.

The lovers sank down on to their knees. Still locked together, Tessay

fell backwards and pulled him over on top of herself.

Boris called out loudly, "By God, Mek Nimmur, you will never know how

ridiculous you look with your bare backside in the air like that."

Mek reacted as swiftly as a leopard surprised on his kill. With a blur

of movement he flipped over and reached for the AK-47. Although Boris

was ready for him, covering him with the 30/06, aiming at the back of

his neck when he shouted to him, Mek was so quick that he had swept up

the AK from where it lay and had it pointed at Boris's belly before he

could move. Mek pressed the trigger in the same instant as the muzzle

came to bear.

The firing-pin fell on the empty chamber with a futile click, and the

two men stared at each other across the gravel beach, both with their

weapons levelled. Tessay was curled naked where Mek had left her, her

dark eyes liquid with pain and horror as she watched her husband and

realized that Mek was about to die.

Boris chuckled softly, throatily. "Where do you want it, Mek? How about

I shoot the head off that filthy black tool of yours, while it is still

standing up in the air like that?"

Mek Nimmur's eyes darted away from his adversary's face, back towards

the mountain, and Boris realized that his guess had been correct. Mek

had some of his men up there, but they were keeping out of view of the

beach while their commander indulged himself.

"Don't worry about them. You will both be dead long before your chimps

can get down here to save you." Boris chuckled again. "I am enjoying

this. You and I had an appointment once before, but you broke it. Never

mind this is going to be even more fun." He knew that it was not wise to

delay with a man like this. Mek had made one mistake, and it was highly

unlikely that he would make another. He should blow his head off now,

and that would give him a few minutes more to deal with Tessay. But the

temptation to gloat over him was too strong.

"I have good news for you, Mek. You will live a few seconds longer. I am

going to kill the whore first, and I am going to let you watch. I hope

you enjoy it as much as I am going to." He sidled away from the shelter

of the boulder, edging towards where Tessay lay curled on the gravel

beach. She was turned half away from him, trying to cover her breasts

and her pubic area with hands too small and delicate for the job. Even

as he approached the woman, Boris was watching Mek with his full

attention. Mek was the danger, and he never took his eyes off him. It

was a mistake. He had underestimated the woman.

While pretending to turn away from him modestly, Tessay had reached down

between her thighs and found a round, water-worn stone that fitted

neatly into her small fist. Suddenly she uncoiled her lithe body and

used all the strength of it to hurl the stone at his head. Boris caught

the movement from the corner of his eye and flung up his arm to shield

his head.

The stone, flying with surprising force at close range, never struck its

target. Instead it caught the point of Boris's upraised elbow. His

sleeves were rolled up high around his biceps, and there was no padding

to cushion the impact of the stone; his arm was bent and flexed, the

thin covering of skin drawn tightly over the bone of the joint. The head

of the ulna cracked like glass, and Boris howled at the excruciating

agony. His hand opened involuntarily, and his forefinger jerked away

from the trigger without the strength to fire the shot he was aiming at

Mek's belly.

Mek rolled to his feet, and before Boris could change the rifle to his

other hand he disappeared behind the angle of the giant boulder.

With his left hand Boris swung the butt of the rifle at Tessay's head,

knocking her backwards into the sand. Then he thrust the muzzle into her

throat, pinning her there while he shouted angrily. "I am going to kill

her, you black bastard! If you want your whore, you' better come fetch

her!" The pain of the shattered elbow rendered his voice hoarse and

brutish.

From somewhere behind the boulder Mek Nimmur's voice fang out strongly

and clearly, calling a single word in Amharic that echoed along the

cliffs. Then he spoke in English, "My men will be here in a moment.

Leave the woman and I will spare you. Harm her and I will make you plead

for death."

Boris stooped over Tessay and dragged her to her feet with his good arm

locked around her throat. He held the rifle in the same hand, pointing

it over her shoulder. The hand of his injured arm had recovered

sufficiently from the first shock to be able to hold the pistol grip and

to manipulate the trigger.

"She will be dead long before your men get here," he shouted back as he

started to drag her away from the boulder. "Come and get her yourself,

Mek. She is here if you want her."

He tightened his lock around her throat, choking her until she struggled

and gasped, tearing at his arm with her nails and leaving long red welts

across the tanned skin.

"Listen to her! I am crushing this pretty neck. Listen to her choking."

He tightened his grip, forcing the sounds of distress out of her.

Boris was watching the corner of the boulder where Mek had disappeared.

At the same time he was backing away from it, giving himself space in

which to work. His mind was racing, for he knew that he could not

escape. His right arm was barely usable, and there were too many of

Mek's shufta companions. He had the woman, but he wanted the man as

well. That was the best trade that he could hope for - both of them, he

had to have both of them.

He heard a shout, a strange voice from higher up the slope. Mek's men

were on their way. He was desperate now. Mek was not going to be drawn;

he had not heard him speak or move for almost two minutes. He had lost

him - by this time he could be anywhere.

"Too late," Boris realized. "I am not going to get him.

Only the woman. But I must do it now." He forced her to her knees and

stooped over her, shifting the lock of his arm around her throat.

"Goodbye, Tessay," he grated in her ear. He tightened his arm muscles

and felt the vertebrae in her neck arched to breaking point. It needed

only an ounce more pressure.

"It's all over for you," he whispered, and began the final pressure. He

knew from long experience the sound, that the vertebrae would make as

they gave, and he tensed himself for it, poised for that crackle like

the breaking of a green branch, and the stack weight of her corpse in

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