NO END…

The Contract

– 1 —

The clouds over Paris darkened, gathered and headed to south-west, emitting a guttural rumble of the future storm.

The rays of the sun fell to the bottom of my eyes and then flowed into the cellars of the subconscious, where until the end of my days they are destined to dimly illuminate what is better to forget like pretentious and meaningless phrase, a shameful act or a shameful lack of it, original sin, mass solipsism, my first assignment, other people’s empty lives, cowardice and betrayal.

The footprints on the dusty sidewalk, slightly sprinkled with the beginning rain, looked like a pattern of interwoven worms. One of them almost crawled to the entrance of the house, to which I was going. It’s better not to do the job than to do it halfway. I entered this house only with one purpose – to complete the mission entrusted to me and to complete it perfectly as always…

The “object” – brown-haired, grey-eyed bon vivant lived in the apartment on the third floor. Clark Delaunay In reality he looked even better than in the photo. Everything in him: his elegant manners, confident voice and charming smile made profound effect.

“Mademoiselle Benoit? S’il vous plait,” he said, opening the door, and I entered the apartment. He helped me to take off my jacket, and then we went to a large room with the bookshelves along one of the walls. A round table, a red couch, a couple of chairs, a Persian rug, a bust of Seneca, a full bar, a big mirror – this is what immediately caught my eye. Several heavy books lay on the table. I identified only one of them – “Experiments” Montaigne.

“I usually work in the morning,” he said, scrutinizing me, “the agency told me you are their best typist. Take in mind, Clarisse, I dictate fast.”

“I’m sure I can handle it, Monsieur Delaunay,” I smiled.

“Well, just call me Clark,” he said. “No need to be so formal… By the way, don’t you find that similarity of our names is not occasional?”

“Oh, it’s funny but I don’t think so,” I said, probably more flirtatious than I should, and to correct my mistake I looked with interest at the picture on the wall.

It was made in bright colors and surreal manner. In the center of the desert landscape a futurist construction stood, on its stairs was a man in a spacesuit who addressed his speech to a crowd of naked beauties, standing on the orange grass. There was a mountain range in the background. Two suns shone under it in the lilac sky.

“It looks like another planet. Did your paint this picture?”

“I’ve studied painting once, but haven’t achieved any success in it. Recently I saw a strange dream. It so excited me that I decided to fix it. Now you can see the result.”

“Wonderful! And what name did you give to the picture?”

“I didn’t come up with a name. May be you will help me?

I wondered, my eyes fell on the bust of Seneca.

“Through the thorns to the stars.”

“Per aspera ad Astra. Great! It’s surprise that I myself didn’t think of this name.” laughed Delaunay. “By the way, do you know what van Gogh wrote in a letter to his brother?

I looked at him inquiringly.

“Just as we take a train to get to Tarascon or Rouen, also we die to get to the stars”

“It’s a deep thought,” I nodded

Delaunay approached the bar.

“Do you want to drink? Oh yes,” he seemed to remember something, “if I’m not mistaken, you completed the bartending course, so you can make a couple of cocktails in case of my friends or companions come to me?”

“Sure. What do you prefer?”

“Well, I have pretty simple taste in this area of human passions. Mix gin, vermouth and vodka in a ratio of one-one-two and don’t shake.”

Preparing his cocktail, I looked in the mirror. Delaunay sat on the couch, his gaze traveled down my body. Oh, I remembered the same gaze of an important official in the Department of justice before he shot himself as it was said in the newspapers. Actually I killed that jerk. It was my job to make it look like a suicide. Finally the scandal was hushed up, and the unknown fatal beauty was never found.

“Is your hair naturally blond, Clarisse?” he asked suddenly. I poured myself a glass of wine. Drinking alcohol together facilitated my task.

“Yes, as natural as everything else,” I said, staring longingly into his eyes and feeling the incredible excitation all over my body.

Being an experienced male, he understood everything. He got up, came closer to me and gently lifted my chin by his fingers.

“What a lovely dimple,” he said, “you are devilishly beautiful, Clarisse. And you know that,” he ran his index finger over my lips. “Yes,” I smiled and licked it. Then I took his finger in my mouth and began to suck it, while his other hand softy squeezed my breasts.

I felt the heat underbelly when he pressed me against him and kissed deeply. My desire became unbearable. Not stopping to caress me he removed all my clothing fairly quickly. What he never should have found was hidden in my clutch…

***

If I visited the birthday of the writer Maxim Gorky on island Capri in Italy, I would definitely ask his opinion about Kim Dolphinov, a little-known Russian poet of the early twentieth century. Gorky had known Dolphinov since 1905, and patronized him for a long time.

After 1917 Dolphinov often visited Gorky on Capri, where proletarian writer preferred to live, glorifying Russian revolution far from Russia, in the quiet bourgeois atmosphere of the Italian resort. Not being a Soviet citizen, but also not being a supporter of the anti-Soviet movement, Dolphinov managed to take neutral position in emigration. I thought of this man at the moment, which could hardly be considered suitable – Clarisse has really outstanding oral skills. And what she was doing right now on her knees in front of me would drive any man crazy. But I can do several things at the same time not losing my mind control.

Traveling before the revolution in Europe, Dolphinov met some Englishman. The nature of their relationship remains unknown. Some people suggest that they were more than just friends. But in fact it is known only that later the Englishman gave his son the name of his Russian friend – Kim.

It was the second Kim who played a big role in our operation in Britain. Agent Berkovsky organized Cambridge five so that by the forty – seventh year Soviet intelligence received seventeen thousand pages of secret text belonging to the British uranium Committee the information that came previously from Los Alamos.

This girl who came to kill me has no idea she’s just a link in the chain of a plan drawn up in KGB. She must give me a substance that will first cause deep sleep, then paralysis of the respiratory system. So it was explained to her. It is necessary to convince the British intelligence that the Soviets want to get rid of me. Clarisse thinks that after tasting her potions I will die. But the vial has been replaced. So really I just will go to sleep. Then the British, making sure in my fair play, will use me as their special agent with the top-level security clearance. My comrades made everything for I had all opportunities to prove myself in the service of British Empire…

Oh, Yes. Yes! What a perfect bitch this girl!

***

He lifted me up from my knees, spine me around and bend me forward over the table.

Then he grabs my hips and, spreading my legs apart, enters me roughly. I moaned, feeling his strong pushes, and followed his rhythm. My God, I wanted it to last forever! Oh, no, my heart was not destroyed by Clark Delaunay. But I felt a bit pity that this exceptional man will die soon. He moved faster and faster, driving me crazy. Everything was fuzzy. a hot wave came roaring out of me, and the last thing I saw before our screams of pleasure filled the room was the book’s title “Experiments”.

***

After all was finished he lit a cigarette. Its smell was tart and sweet as the smell of our sudden passion. I wished to continue our “experiments” but I couldn’t risk so I quietly took the vial from my clutch and put the poison in his cocktail. Clark took the glass from my hands, looking thoughtfully at me.

“Well, you are fantastic girl, Clarisse, and it’s a pity that… However, okay. Later.” He smiled and drank his cocktail.

“As you wish,” I smiled him back despite some sadness I felt at that moment. I drank my vine slowly. “It’s a pity that I must kill you”, that’s what I thought about.

“Come in the other room,” he suggested and motioned me to follow him.

We entered a luxurious bedroom with antique furniture. It was a little bit cool because of the open window. The large bed decorated with multi-colored pillows and purple blanket calls to forget about everything.

“Here are more comfortable conditions for what we have done recently, don’t you think so?” Clark asked, touching my hair. And without waiting for my answer he suddenly went to the desk, on which something stood, covered with a thick cloth. He took it off, and I saw a cage, inside which an absolutely pirate parrot sat. He seemed to me very wise if so can be said about the birds.

“How lovely,” I laughed. “What’s his name?” I remembered that I had to leave immediately after the “object” falls asleep.

“Stanley,” he said a little hesitantly.

“Can he talk?”

“Yes, as far as I know.” Clark said more slowly than before.

“Oh, God!” I exclaimed. “What is it? Another one?”

“It is a crow, his name’s Livingstone, He came this morning.” he muttered and collapsed on the bed.

This is exactly what the first stage was supposed to be. He simply falls asleep, and after twenty minutes he quietly goes to another world. However, I was not sure that quietly. There are may be some unpleasant moments related to death, such as blue in the face and death cries. I didn’t want to see his agony after all what happened between us. I looked at him last time, sighed and went out of the room. Sometimes I hate my job.

***

I woke up hearing that someone opened the front door. I was a little bit shaken because of the “poison’s” effect but I quickly recovered. I took a gun out of the desk and hid behind the door, watching the corridor in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall.

In the corridor appeared two men with weapons in their hands. I had no idea who they were. But I had no illusions about their intentions. The mirror gave me a good overview to control the situation. Quietly dropping to one knee, I sharply fell on the side and fired. The first shot I sent exactly in the neck of the nearest one, and the second was to get the brush of another, but I missed. They fell down almost in the same moment. Two dead men, no doubts.

When I examined their bodies, the face of second one whom I wanted to leave alive seemed familiar to me. Ezra Dickinson, The member of the world’s largest criminal syndicate “Spectrum”. This top secret organization was engaged in all types of criminal activity. No one, neither the West, nor the East didn’t know who the leader of “Spectrum” was. Well, maybe I will find it out in my new life as an agent of Her Majesty…

I got dressed, took the documents and went out the back door.