Don Pendleton - Civil War II by Don Pendleton Page B

His right arm jerked across his chest—the man with the pistol growled "Uh-uh" and cruelly jammed the muzzle of the pistol into Fairchild's neck. Royal's arm dropped and hung loose, and he muttered, "What the hell is going on?"
    The gunman quietly told him, "Shut up."
    Mrs. Fairchild's legs were failing her. Royal made a move toward her but again the gunman warned, "Uh-uh."
    Royal poised there and watched the older man return.
    "It's clean," the man reported. He went over to Royal and relieved him of the revolver in his sideleather, then asked the other gunman, "This the guy you were talking about?"
    "That's him," the younger man said.
    "Okay, let's get going." The big man, obviously In charge, shoved Royal toward the narrow hallway leading to the rear of the house and snared Bettina Fairchild by an arm and propelled her along behind Royal. She whimpered and threw an agonized look over her shoulder, but went on without argument.
    Fairchild and the gunbearer followed close behind. When he reached the bedroom, his wife was lying on the bed, one arm raised across her face, softly sobbing. Jimmy Royal stood against the wall, an uncomprehending mask twisting at his face.
    "Okay, let's get undressed," the older man snapped.
    Bettina jerked noticeably but otherwise remained motionless. Royal glared at the big man, unspoken questions in the look. "Yeah, I mean you," the man told him. "Get 'em off. Get everything off. I mean you too, lady." He grabbed Bettina's leg and dragged her onto the floor.
    She came up breathing harshly, fear and guilt and resignation showing in the pretty face. She turned dully toward the young man with the gun at her husband's head and told him in a flat voice, "I know you. You worked with the gardener last summer. You're a Negruh."
    "Yes ma'am," the youth replied, confirming the identification with a sniggering caricature of black docility. His eyes traveled meaningfully about the bedroom. "And I know this here place too, ma'am."
    "Enough talk, lady," the big man growled. "Get your clothes off."
    Bettina looked to her husband. He appeared to be a man in deep shock and hardly aware of his surroundings, but he nodded his head and told her in a barely audible voice, "Better do what they say, Betts." His head was craned to one side, as though cringing from the cold steel impressed there.
    Bettina unfastened her dress and let it fall, stepped out of it, tripped, and fell onto the bed. The big man helped her upright, ran an appreciative hand along her hip, then stepped back. "You're doing fine," he told her. "Get the rest of it off."
    She stared at him dully, dropped her eyes, unfastened the bra, and slowly drew it off. Heavy breasts jiggled in a sudden release. She stood there quietly, her eyes moving slowly about the room.
    "All of it honey," the man commanded.
    She stripped off the panties, fell again with the silken flims y gilding her ankles. The man helped her again, this time running both hands the full length of her legs and pausing to gently pinch the soft inner thighs. Then he flipped her onto the bed and stared down at her, the panties in his hand.
    "See, I told you," the younger man commented. "No hair."
    "That's the way whitey wears it now," the other man replied heavily. "Well . . ." He turned with a sigh, went over to Royal, and tossed the panties into his face. "I told j you to get undressed," he said.
    Royal's fair complexion turned even fairer. He fumbled with his tie. Giving that up as an impossible job, he tried to remove his shirt while still wearing the jacket and generally showed signs of total disorientation. The two invaders chuckled and watched him. Tom Fairchild was staring stonily at his wife's figure on the bed.
    Royal finally got the clothing off and looked at the big man for further direction.
    "Take off those socks," the man told him. "You don't get in a lady's bed with your damn socks on, do you?" He gave the naked man a shove, and Royal fell to the bed beside Bettina.
    Then the