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The pilot spoke softly to him in an encouraging tone, and the nodded and straightened up. He glanced at his superior engineer with an expression of patent gratitude, and watching this brief exchange between the two men, China smiled again, this time with satisfaction.

When Claudia saw that smile, she suddenly realized that China had just run a selection test. He had chosen his victim. The mechanic was the least courageous of the five Russians, and the pilot had inadvertently disclosed his concern and friendship for the man.

"Please," she whispered in Italian, "Your friend is in terrible danger.

You must do what this man asks if you wish to save him.

The pilot looked at her, and from his expression Claudia saw he was beginning to waver.

"Please, for my sake. I cannot bear to watch." With despair she saw the Russian's expression change as his resolve firmed once again. He shook his head. China saw that gesture.

He switched off the welding torch and blew softly on the white tip of the metal rod. He let the moment draw out agonizingly; every eye in the bunker was fixed on the point of glowing steel.

Abruptly he gave an order in Portuguese, and two of his men sprang forward and seized the mechanic by his arms. He gave a little squeal of protest, but they hustled him to the workbench and threw him facedown across its top. One of them jumped up and sat between his shoulder blades, pinning him down. He struggled ineffectually, kicking his legs. Swiftly and expertly, they strapped his ankles to the legs of the workbench, and he lay helplessly sprawled face downwards with his backside sticking up in the air, stretching the cotton seat of his overalls.

The Russian pilot shouted a protest and stepped forward, but one of the Renamo officers thrust a pistol into his belly and forced him back against the wall.

"I ask You again," China said, "will you fly for me?"

The pilot shouted at him in Russian. It was clearly an insult. His face was flushed now, the acne purple and shiny as buttons on his chin and cheeks.

China nodded at his men. One of them drew the trench knife from its sheath on his webbing belt and slit the waistband of the mechanic's overalls. Then he seized the severed edges of cotton and ripped them downward, tearing the cloth loose so it hung in tatters around the pinioned man's knees. Under the overalls, the engineer wore a pair of elasticized blue underpants. The Renamo pulled these down as far as they would go.

Claudia stared in fascinated horror at the mechanic's exposed buttocks. They were very white and fat and round, covered with a scraggle of dark curly reddish hair. From between his thighs, his wrinkled hairy scrotum protruded backward like that of a dog.

The pilot was shouting in Russian, and Claudia found herself pleading weakly. "Please, General China, please let me leave. I cannot bear this." She tried to turn her head away and cover her eyes, but the dreadful fascination of it compelled her to watch through her fingers despite herself.

China ignored both the pilot's and Claudia's pleas and spoke crisply to the officer who sat between the Russian's shoulder blades. Still pinning him to the bench, the Renarno reached over and seized one of his buttocks in each of his hands and drew them sharply apart. Claudia's protests dried in her throat, and she found herself staring dry-mouthed at the Russian's puckered rosy-brown anus as it nestled like a blind man's eye between his hairy cheeks.

China reached out toward it with the tip of the rod, then stopped three inches short of it. T4e mechanic felt the heat of it on his most intimate flesh and begani-to struggle so violently that two more of the Renamo officers bad to throw their combined weight onto his back to keep him -pinned down.

"Yes?" China looked across at the Russian pilot. He was raving like a madman, his face contorted with outrage, shouting threats and accusations.

"I regret the necessity," China said, and thrust the metal rod forward, his wrist cocked like that of a fencing master going on attack, a fl&he.

As the glowing metal touched the sensitive skin the Russian screamed, a shattering high-pitched shriek that made Claudia cry out pitifully in sympathy.

rotated The metal smoked and siuled and spluttered as China his wrist, twstmg the rod deeW and deqw into the Russian's body. Now his screams were great explosive gusts Of sound.

Claudia clapped her hands over her ears to shut them out and turned away, running into the corner of the dugout and pressing her face against the rough sandbags.

The smoke filled her nostrils, ha throat, and her hings, and the obscene odor of burning flesh, of charring fat, coated her tongue, and her gorge rose. She tried to contain it, but vomit shot up her throat and in a projectile stream splashed onto the earthen floor between her feet.

Behind her the screams dropped gradually in volume and became ghastly rattling groans. However, all the Russians were yenmg their protest and fury, and the din was confusing.

Another whiff of burned flesh and spilled feces made her retch again. Then she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and leaned her forehead against the sandbagged wall. She was trembring wildly, and wan and sweat streamed down her cheeks.

Slowly the uproar behind her subsided, and the only sounds in mechanic's groans and gurgles. They were the bunker were the weaker now but nonetheless harrowing. Claudia could tell without looking at him that the Russian was dying.

Miss Monterro." China's voice was level and calm. "Please get a grip on yourself. We still have work to do."

all" she blurted. "I hate you! Oh, God, how You are an animI hate you!"

"Your feelings are not of the slightest interest to me," China said. "Now you will tell the pilot that I await his full cooperation."

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