Topaz - Leon Uris [124]
Juanita walked to the bathroom, soaked a couple of towels and wiped the blood from his face and compressed one behind his neck. Without seeking permission, she untied the gag from his mouth.
He spoke with semi-intelligibility through the swollen mouth. “Sure one hell of a way to end up. Funny part. Muñoz was my protégé when we were in the mountains. Always felt the bastard was a coward.”
“I’ll stay with you as long as they let me,” she said.
“Huh ... you know, Juanita ... it wasn’t that I ever expected you to fall in love.... I just wished that once or twice you really enjoyed it ... ”
“Rico ...”
“Don’t lie ... don’t lie. What a hell of a woman you are. When you make a bargain you go all the way .... Well ... maybe you’ll get together with the Frenchman in heaven.”
“Enough!” Muñoz shouted. “Well, lovebirds, how do you like your honeymoon cottage now?” He advanced into the room, menacing them with the butt of the whip. “We all know now just how the Yankees found out about the missiles.”
“For whatever it’s worth, Rico Parra is innocent,” Juanita said.
“For selling his country for a piece of ass!”
“Cuba should be proud of you, Señor Muñoz. Well, when is it my turn?”
Muñoz laughed softly. “Not just yet. You have too many friends around Cuba whose names we wish to know. Oh, perhaps you won’t talk right away but after you watch what we do to Rico Parra now ... tomorrow ... the next day ... your tongue will begin to loosen. It happens that way when the mind goes.”
Juanita was lashed to a bulky chest of drawers so she was directly opposite Rico fifteen feet away. She neither flinched nor closed her eyes. Muñoz circled the hanging target, threw his whip away. “Why don’t you spit?” he taunted.
Muñoz brought the heel of his boot up and jammed it between Rico’s legs. Rico’s body shuddered and he moaned softly and swayed from his crucifixion.
And then Rico smiled. “You hit like a woman, Muñoz.”
Muñoz was infuriated. He kicked Rico again and again but Rico refused to cry out his agony. And then he vomited and Muñoz had his victory.
Muñoz’s eyes rolled insanely and the sweat poured over him as he pounded the defenseless bloated face until his knuckles began to shred and swell. And, as a blessed darkness fell over Rico, Muñoz continued to pound the half-dead man until he fell exhausted against him. Even some of his bloodthirsty colleagues were forced to look away. One came over and pulled him off.
Muñoz staggered to Juanita and ripped the clothing from the upper part of her body then unflicked a gleaming razor-sharp switchblade knife. “For you, Little Dove,” he gasped, “some very special art work. Those breasts of yours won’t look so beautiful when I finish carving them up.... Put the lovers in their bridal bed.”
Rico was cut down. He and Juanita were tied together from neck to ankle back to back and thrown on the bed and in a moment the sheets were blood-soaked.
As soon as he arrived at G-2 Headquarters at the Green House on Avenida Quinta, Muñoz showered and changed clothing but all of the stench and blood could never be washed away.
The Soviet Resident, Oleg Gorgoni, waited anxiously in his office. “I have just received urgent instructions from Moscow that you are not to harm Juanita de Córdoba. She is to be turned over to us.”
“I also have instructions,” Muñoz said. “No.”
“Don’t play with me, Muñoz.”
“Who plays? I said no.”
“I said it was urgent!”
“So you did.”
“You are on dangerous ground. Juanita de Córdoba is to be kept alive for reasons important to the Soviet Union.”
“She is to be taken care of for reasons important to Cuba.”
“You are angering the Soviet Union!”
“Isn’t that just too bad,” Muñoz answered. “Maybe you think you can bully us because we are small. Maybe it might work with Cuba because you’re too yellow to bully the Yankees!”
Gorgoni turned ashen as Muñoz stormed to his feet and