Read Online Hitman: Enemy Within by William C. Dietz - Free Book Online

toward the assassin and saw that the silenced weapon was aimed at her right knee.
    “My code is Indigo378.”
    “Thank you,” John said politely. “Have a nice day.”
    She could have been lying, of course, but based on the speed with which the man on the other end of the line had accepted the code, 47 didn’t think so.
    He lowered the gun.
    “Remove your clothes.”
    Marla raised a well-plucked eyebrow.
    “Are you planning to rape me?”
    She let the raincoat fall. The Puissance Treize agent had been forced to strip before. Once inMadrid , where it had been necessary to pose as an exotic dancer, so she could sit on her target’s lap. Then inParis , where the only way to steal the key she needed was to have sex with a French gangster.And most recently inYakima , where the Big Kahuna insisted on a “show” the evening prior to the meeting. So Marla knew her body could be used as a weapon—but was the man with the gun susceptible?
    Looking at his face it was impossible to tell.
    He watched impassively as Marla’s thong hit the floor.
    “So,” Marla said provocatively, as she completed a quick turn. “Are you satisfied?”
    The agent ignored the question. “Who hired you to protect the Big Kahuna?” he demanded.
    “Don’t be absurd,” the Puissance Treize agent replied contemptuously. “You know the rules. My superiors would kill me if I told you that!”
    The assassin eyed her coldly.
    “I’ll kill you if you don’t.”
    “No,” Marla countered firmly, “You won’t. Not as long as you need information, and there’s a chance you might get it from me.”
    “True,” 47 agreed as the DOVO reappeared. “Then it looks like I’ll have to torture the information out of you….
    “Which nipple should I remove first?”
    Marla’s hands instinctively flew up to cover her breasts. It was a sign of weakness she immediately came to regret, as she forced her hands back down.
    “Torture doesn’t work,” she replied firmly. “People will say anything to make the pain stop. You know that, and I know that.”
    “That’s what the experts say,” 47 acknowledged darkly. “But I’ve had pretty good results. Perhaps that’s because I enjoy it. Go over and sit on one of those chairs.” Marla wasn’t sure whether he was telling the truth or just trying to unnerve her more. He motioned with the gun. The houseboat’s interior featured a retro ’50s theme, complete with lots of primary colors, plastic, and chrome. The chairs he referred to sat around a pedestal-style, circular table. Fear tingled at the base of Marla’s skull now, and with good reason, given the possibility that the assassin was a self-confessed sadist.
    “Put your hands behind your back,” he ordered sternly. He bound her wrists with phone cord. Her ankles came next, and by the time he was finished, Marla was helpless.Or nearly so, since the plastic-coated phone line was slippery, and difficult to knot.
    “There,” the agent said, as he stood. “Can’t have any screaming…so all we need now is a gag. Or would you prefer to answer my questions?”
    Marla remembered Mrs. Kaberov’s cold blue eyes, and the bullet in the velvet-lined box.
    “Go screw yourself!” she responded defiantly.
    “Fine,have it your way,” 47 said, and left the dining area.
    The assassin returned a few moments later with a dish towel that he tied over Marla’s mouth, and a pillowcase that he pulled down over her head. Then, much to Marla’s relief, she heard a series of footfalls, followed by the sound of the front door opening and closing. But the man with the gun would be back, and she knew her first opportunity to escape would most likely be the only opportunity to escape.
    So rather than wait to see what would happen next, Marla went to work on freeing her hands. And thanks to the fact that the phone cord was slippery, it wasn’t long before her bonds started to come loose. Thus encouraged, she struggled to work her hands free before her assailant