The Librarian Pt. 01

The Librarian

This is a departure. I'm not sure where it will be posted. I may get roasted by some new readers instead of the regulars in Loving Wives. So here goes. Two parts; bear me(heh, heh) you'll find the Librarian, I promise.

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He was working in Venezuela. His cover was a G. E. service rep, working at the PDVSA, out of Caracas. That was his cover.

Actually, he worked for the Company. That's right, every body knows who that is. But it was a good cover, or so he thought. No one outside the Agency knew who he really was. Except for his wife. And that's where the problem began.

His name is Michael Starne. His cover was 'Peter Trees'. He was one of the C.I.A.'s best. 42 years old. Ex-Army Ranger sniper, excellent shot, with both long arm and pistol.

6 Feet 2 inches tall, 210 lbs (but after 4 weeks down here, probably closer to 200 lbs. now) Married, 21 years to Lorelei, one child-Samantha age 19. Lovely wife, Lorelei.

So I thought.

This was to be his last field assignment. The retirement papers were already in place, and he would tell his wife went he returned in about a week.

His assignment went almost text-book good and he was tying up the loose ends. Pretty soon, the agency would have the goods on the Venezuelan government's secret source of oil distribution through out the Caribbean, Central and South America, and the world. He let his guard down just a little and went out with two of the oil company's engineers for a drink.

He never let someone else order or get his drinks. He was careful about that. Basic field-craft from the 'farm'. He sat with his back to a wall, not obviously, but with some flair, saying he wanted to have a good look at the senoritas and their legs on their way to the ladies room. He volunteered to get the drinks, and even bought two rounds. After all, he was the 'rich Americano', wasn't he?

But it was all a mirage. He had no control over the scenario. The two engineers had been coerced to have him kidnapped. After about five rounds, the last two purchased by and picked up by 'Peter' himself, one of the 'local lovelies' came over and started vamping the three guys. 'Peter' watched with amusement, thinking of his wonderful,'faithful' wife at home. She eventually got to 'Peter' and draped herself around him, licking his neck and ear.

He blushed and started to remove her arms when he felt a sharp prick in his neck, behind his ear. He had only time enough to disentangle himself and the last words he heard were from Ramon, one of the local engineers, saying,"What's wrong, my friend? You don't look so......".

Then his head hit the table, and darkness.

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The rest of the story, from 'Peter's' perspective.

"Ohh, my head."

I slowly regained consciousness. I was in a small cell, no other word for it. A one by one window, high up on the wall, let in the dying sun. Also rain, birds, rats, insects, and anything else that would fit. Rats were crawling over me, millipedes were scuttling around.

('I'll bet some of them are poisonous, too,' I thought.)

There was nothing else in the room. Down in the corner, someone had scooped out an 8"deep,1 foot around depression. If you got close enough, you knew why. And by close enough, I mean anywhere in the room.

And it was hot, and humid.

'Seems like someone forgot to turn on the A/C. ......... Or it's broken', I mused. I went to sit up and realized I was hand cuffed.

I shook my head to clear it and heard the door rattle and then open. I was slightly shocked to see a tallish guy of oriental descent enter with a soft leather valise at his side. He looked at me and smirked.

I got a bad feeling. The Chinese guy's presence confirmed my suspicions. Venezuela was dealing with the Chi-Coms, to market their oil. The bills of sale, receipts, bills of lading, shipping manifests and the clandestine phone calls out of and into the country from Peking were confirmed. I was glad I had gotten all my evidence out to Langley a few days ago. But it looked like they had blown my cover.

"So, Mr. TREES is it? But we know better, don't we?" He turned to the guy in the doorway, holding an AK-47, and told him to take to take me to the interrogation room.

'Pablo' came and grabbed me, jerked me upright, and dragged me out into the corridor.

Training 101 from the farm: 'Don't let them know what kind of shape you were in. Let them think you were still fucked up and weak.' Wasn't too hard, 'cause I was still kind of groggy, so I let him drag me down the hallway and around a corner. He opened a door and almost threw me into a small room, with a metal table, bolted to the floor and an aluminum chair behind it, with an identical one facing it. He led me to the one on the far side and forced me to sit. I let my face smack the table to encourage the ruse, and help snap me out of my funk.

It was virtually identical to the cell I had been in, except the floor was paved and the window had glass in it. Also, no 'air-freshener' in the corner. A small fan was doing it's best to circulate the fetid air (and losing).

'Uncle Ho', as I thought of him, came in and took the other seat. He pulled out a small lap top, turned it on and started on me.

"What do you know, Mr. Trees? Where are all the files and paperwork you have acquired in the last four weeks? Who is your contact? Tell us, Mr. Trees and I'll see to it that you can leave here ....in a short time. Other wise, this will continue."

He turned the laptop around and hit 'play', starting a DVD running. There on the screen, was my lovely wife, Lorelei, laying naked in OUR bed with some fuck stick pounding her into the mattress while she screamed 'YES, YES, MAKE ME COME AGAIN!! OH, MY FUCKING GOD!!!'. This went on for a good twelve minutes or so as she orgasm-ed at least three times. They finally finished with a loud moan, and rolled apart.

She lightly twirled his chest hair, and asked, "Are you sure he's history? He won't be coming back? I don't mind waiting out the abandonment and presumed dead shit, but I don't need him turning up, sticking a knife in my chest."

"Oh, don't worry about that. My 'friends' assured me he is history."

That's when he paused it and turned it around to face him. He smirked at the screen, and then looked up at me.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You probably don't know who she is. Her name is Mrs. Lorelei Starne, wife of a CIA operative down here. Do you know him, Mr. Trees?"

I leveled a stare at him. 'Control, control. Breath deep. Don't let him get to you. One problem at a time.

"What do you want? I have no idea about any files or such you are talking about."

"Oh, well, then, that is a pity. Lorelei seems to think you do. I'll just have to have her 'friend' question her some more. Well, actually, he's been 'questioning' her for about a year and a half now. They are quite close. I've got several DVD's showing them 'together'.

I was dying inside. My marriage had just disintegrated in front of this eyes. I fought the panic and breathed deep. There is a way out; he just needed to keep his wits about him till he found it.

A far as I could tell, I was still in Venezuela. The high window seemed to be letting in sunlight. I had no idea how long I had been out, but it didn't seem like very long. I studied the Chinese guy and concluded that he was an intelligence type, not a field operative. Other then him and the two or three local guns I'd seen in the hallway, there didn't seem to be anyone else.

'Well, that keeps the odds in my favor. Now just don't go getting cocky, Mike', I thought to himself. Movement outside of the small window in the door told me someone was looking in occasionally. He appeared to be looking in about every three minutes. The shitheads voice dragged my attention back to the matter at hand.

"Now, 'Mr. Trees' how will we handle this? Are you going to co-operate? Or do we have to inquire more deeply? Perhaps 'talk' to some other individuals?? What say you, 'Mr. Trees'?"

Okay, let's see what they really know. I shook my head and squinted at him.

"Who are you? I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm a service rep, for Gods sake. Who do you think I am?".

"Well, 'Mr. Trees' obviously you are going to stone wall this as long as you think you can. So maybe you can ask Mr. Michael Starne what he thinks this will gain him? We already have his wife 'co-operating' and we look forward to talking to his daughter soon, as well."

My gut tensed. 'It will be the last thing you do, asshole,' I thought.

Shit for brains stood up, folded his laptop and moved to the door. I almost lost it, my gut clenching as his last words struck me. He reached the door, rapped on it twice, and stepped away as it opened. But I had to try something.

I lowered my voice and pitched it so he knew I was aware of what he was suggesting.

"You don't want to do that, you slimy Chink bastard. It will not go well for you!"

He turned and looked at me with a smirk, but the expression on my face wiped his out. He shook and his mouth gaped slightly before he realized what he had let slip. He quickly tried to recover.

"You are in no position to threaten me, MR. STARNE!"

He quickly exited the room and the guard entered and motioned with his AK-47 out the door. He returned me to my cell and locked me in. I went through the exercises to calm myself and started to built lists of pros and cons, assets and debits to this situation.

The pro list and the assets list were both very short.

Lorelei had obviously spilled her guts and they knew who he was. She was toast, and he suddenly wondered if she had ever really loved him. Eighteen months according to shit heads statement. Well, the Agency and the FBI will deal with her. Divorce was the least of her worries.

I laid on the floor and was starting to feel better, more with it. Again, I took stock of my cell. It was about eight foot square, a low wooden cot along the back wall. The mattress was a mattress because it was too thick to be a blanket. It was also crawling with bed bugs. I pulled the rag off and threw it into the corner, covering the cesspool. The bed frame itself was a rough hewn wooden frame interlaced with ropes. I stared at it and a plan began to form.

I went to the frame and untied the rope, and pulled about four feet out. I rubbed it against the frame work and it finally parted. Then I noticed a large splinter on the back edge. Working my finger nails under it, and drawing blood, I finally broke it loose. I took it to a wall and ground the edge and end into a point. It was about eight and a half inches long and about three-quarters of an inch thick.

I laid it against my arm and up against the left part of the handcuffs. This could work.

The rope was another matter. I thought for a minute, and finally wound up coiling it around my wast, tucking the ends into my wast band. I pulled my shirt out and let it hang over my waist. Hidden! I thought some more and went and got the erstwhile mattress and threw it back on the bed.

Well, this would have to do. There wasn't much else I could arm myself with. About twenty minutes later the door opened and they tossed a plate of something on the floor. The only recognizable stuff on it was cold, moldy rice. I took the plate over to the cesspool and dumped it, then threw the plate over by the door. I got as far away from the 'toilet' as I could and curled up in a ball, to conserve heat, and keep the creatures off me. I tried to sleep.

The sun breaking through the little window hit me directly in the eyes, snapping me awake, almost immediately followed by the door banging open and a boot to the lower leg. I stood up, stumbled, and managed to hide my custom made 'shiv' and followed the guard down the corridor. The door at the end of the hall had a somewhat larger window with wooden bars and showed the sun barely over the trees.

Down the hall to the interrogation room again and I was shoved in and told to sit. The guard was nice enough to give me a beat up soup can with the top removed, half filled with water. Campbell's Chicken Noodle. Go figure. He left and closed the door and I drained the small bit of water. I figured I had to watch for an opportunity today because I wouldn't last much longer, if they let me.

'Uncle Ho', as I had tagged him, came in about ten minutes later. He closed the door and I watched the small view space at the top. The guard looked in and then disappeared. I needed to keep my eye on that so that I could time any move I made.

Ho sat down and spooled up his laptop. While he waited, he smiled at me.

"Well, Mike, .....may I call you Mike? Have you changed your mind, Mike?"

I stared at him as I surreptitiously watched the doors window.

"I have some more 'interviews' with your wife. We mentioned to her that you were involved with some friends and probably would not be returning home."

He turned the laptop around and hit enter on the keyboard. The action, and I do mean action, commenced immediately. Lorelei was screaming out all sorts of words, none of them particularly endearing to me. The asshole was reaming HER asshole.

"OH, FUCKING CHRIST!! IT'S SO FUCKING BIG!! IT'S SO FUCKING BIG....... FUCK, MAKE ME CUM!!" She was slobbering all over the sheets on our bed, and moaning and panting while her fucked her.

"You know we can do this anytime you want when your marriage is over. He won't be able to fight the divorce," smirked shit head.

I was pretty sure that was his name.

Well, it was now.

"I don't give a shit," she moaned. "I'm going to leave him and take everything he has. He'll wind up broke and destitute. He'll have to pay me and finish paying for college for my daughter and I'll see to it that he never sees her again. The fucking bastard. OOHHH, FUCK! DEEPER, DEEEPER! I WANT IT IN ME DEEEPER!!!"

The 'asshole was grinning as he pistoned into my lovely wife's rosebud.

(Actually, my soon to be ex- wife.)

That's when the shit got personal. 'Uncle Ho' swung the laptop around and changed DVDs. He turned it back around, and pushed 'play' again.

"I didn't think you would, so we went and talked to another source. She was SOO much more accommodating."

The video was brighter, because the sun was higher and streaming through the wide open college dorm-room windows. The body of the petite, 19 year old blonde was spread on the bed as the wiry Chinese fucker was 'driving her to Tulsa' as they say. Her head was tossing side to side in ecstasy and she was screaming, "YES, YES, FUCK ME."

I took a good long look at the pricks face so that I would remember him. I already knew the beautiful face of my daughter Samantha as she writhed in passion. My eyes whipped up to the window. Six seconds later, the guard looked in. Then he was gone again. I had three minutes, if the puta had a watch. I had to move fast. God help me, because no one else would.

"All right, all right what do you want to know?", I asked.

He stopped the DVD and slid a pad over to me. "I need it in writing, what you did and where the documents are. Also, who you work for. REALLY work for, Mr. Starne."

Now or never. Two minutes, fifteen seconds left. I looked at the pad and then him. "PEN, jerk. What am I supposed to write with?"

He looked nonplussed for a second, then scowled, and threw down a pencil.

"Make due, Mr. Starne."

I reached for the pencil and at the same time slid the shiv out of my sleeve. One minute, forty-five seconds left. I checked the window again, and picked up the pencil. As I went to start writing, I dropped it.

"Shit!", I said. 'Uncle Ho' looked down. It was the last thing he ever saw-out of his right eye. I was already moving across the table, holding the shiv in two hands, forcing his head to the floor and drove the shiv into his skull- through his right eyeball.

I twisted it. Six inches of cypress wood lodged in his skull. He shook twice and died. One minute, ten seconds left.

Now I hoped he had the key to the handcuffs. I went through his pockets and finally came up with it. Forty seconds left. I took off the cuffs, slipped the rope from around my waist and rose to the side of the door. Fifteen seconds. Now to wait.

I heard him walk up to the door.

"Senor!!" he called through the door and keys rattled in the lock. The door swung in and the guard entered. Before he could sound any kind of alarm, I pushed the door closed and looped the rope around his neck. I tightened it and twisted. He squawked and dropped his Kalashnikov, sagging down. I drove my knee into his spine at the base of his skull as he sunk to the floor, and he was history. I stripped off his jacket and checked the pockets. Two clips for the AK, and a wallet. I pocketed the clips and the wallet and shouldered the AK. I went back to the table and ejected the DVD with Samantha's escapade on it and loaded one with Lorelei's adventures on it. I went through Ho's pockets and came up with an official looking laminated card. I shoved it in the wallet and picked everything else up and put them in Ho's briefcase. I stuck Samantha's video in my pocket. THAT one would be personal. The cunt's would be business, and I was very good at business. I went to the door.

Slowly, I cracked it open and listened. Then I peered out and slipped into the corridor. To the left were the holding cells. To the right the hallway stretched about ten feet and ended at a door apparently to the outside. I moved down it to the doorway and on the right was an open room with three empty beds. To the left was a closed door. I switched the AK to semi-auto and flipped off the safety, checking to make sure there was a round loaded. I eased open the door.

Inside was a store room. Crates of guns and explosives and 5-gallon cans of what appeared to gas. Four boxes of grenades lay on the floor. I moved to the shelves in there and picked up a Glock semi-automatic, racked the slide, loaded a clip and cycled it. Then I picked up two more clips and slipped them into my pants pocket, grabbed a satchel off the shelf, and took the two AK clips and shoved them in along with four hand grenades. (You never know.)

I was spit balling here as I had no idea what to do or where to go next. All I knew was I was free. (Sort off.) I wet to the door and looked out. It appeared to be about nine o'clock in the morning. No body out there, but close to the door was an older model Dodge Power Wagon pickup. Across the yard were two small buildings next to each other, and at the exit road a watch tower. One sentry in the tower. I thought for a minute, and turned back to the 'armory'.

God must have been bored and decided to give me a slight helping hand. I thought for a moment longer and picked up another grenade. I turned and went to the door and slowly pulled it open, looking around. No one. I casually walked to the truck and opened the driver's door. I placed the AK and the briefcase and satchel on the front seat. I looked and saw the keys in the ignition. I nodded to myself and returned to the armory. Making sure I hadn't missed anything else, I grabbed two Jerry cans and lugged them to the pickup bed. They were full. I just hoped they were full of gas.

I went back and pulled the pin on the grenade. Standing in the door I flipped the spoon and tossed it into the room. I closed the outer door and sprinted to the truck. Jumping into the driver's seat, I pushed in the clutch and turned the key The big V-8 roared to life over the grumble of the bad muffler, and I let out the clutch and hit the gas just as the armory blew the building to Panama. I cranked the wheel and roared to the two buildings and managed to lob a grenade onto each front doorway. Then we were off to the watch tower.

By now the guard was screaming and moving to the machine gun by the railing. But the truck was too close to the tower. He couldn't depress it enough to draw a bead on the truck.