Don received quite a shock when "Alfa" told him, that he would be getting the report by messenger! "You ought to have realized that Erica Sondgaard was one of our people," "Alfa" told him. "What's happened to your intuition, Don?"
"Well, I'll be damned!" he exclaimed, replacing the phone. "So she was in on the whole thing!" He chuckled quietly, then sobered; reflecting that if "Alfa" had seen fit to provide him with a "guardian angel," it meant that he, too, feared that Don was slipping. Never mind. That was all in the past now. He had got himself out of a scrape with as much aplomb as any of his past encounters with foreign agents.
"Don Cabot!" the voice of the friendly Western ambassador suddenly greeted him as the door opened. It's great to see you again. You saved the lives of six of our men last November in Istanbul. The Embassy is yours, my boy. You may have the V.I.P. guest suite until we can figure a way to get you out of Budapest. And… what else can I get you? Liquor? Food? Eh…?"
"You are most kind, Mr. Ambassador," Don said, I standing up as he bowed to the West European diplomat. "I… I seem to remember hearing that our former Western agent, Doreen Fisque is now assistant security officer here at your embassy. I'd love to see her again. We worked assignments together in Brussels and Vienna."
"Oh-ho!" the Ambassador said with a chuckle, Of I course! She speaks of you often. She lives here in the compound. You go up to the V.I.P. suite, my good friend. Clean up and take a nap. I'll have a hearty breakfast brought up to you about noon. And… for security reasons, of course, I'll have Miss Fisque bring it to you. She will then have the rest of the day off."
Don had an immediate mental picture of Doreen Fisque standing in front of him naked, her 38-24-36 I body beckoning to him. And then there was that special way he liked to…
"Thank you, Mr. Ambassador," Don said with a pleased smile.
"Get a good night's sleep, my boy," the Ambassador said with a knowing, friendly, smile. "I'm sure you two will have a lot to talk over… "
Chapter 4
Located near the village of Agay, between Cannes and St. Tropez on the French Riviera, is one of the most exclusive, private and undisturbed beaches of the entire Mediterranean. It is located on a forested island of several acres, and about three miles from the mainland. The most beautiful part of the natural, sandy beach is located on the ocean side of the island, thus offering privacy from all those save a few curious yachtsmen and the rubbernecking crew of an occasional passing ship.
The island was posted as "private property" and, since it lay within French territorial waters, trespassing had never been a problem. Police and Coast Guard vessels checked it regularly. There was rumor that the island was owned by a top secret NATO tactical intelligence organization, that it belonged to an eccentric American millionaire, the French government, the gendarmerie. There was no permanent structure visible on the island, and when small groups or individuals were allowed to pitch camp there for a rugged, outdoors vacation, rumors flew that they were members of European royalty, high government officials, millionaires or friends of such illustrious people.
When the two, beautiful and young American girls came to Agay from the Nice-Cannes airport in a taxi and sought transportation to the island, they were immediately questioned by the police.
The local chief himself came down to the boat house to question the girls, and was promptly set back on his ears by the taller and very slightly older of the two girls, who produced a set of documents that had the man begging a thousand pardons. In turn, the police chief railed at the "stupid" boat owner for daring to question the girls' authority to go to the island with their suitcases and heavy load of camping gear.
And while a new set of rumors spread throughout the gossipy village over the next few days, the "V.I.P." American girls had not been seen, preferring to use the beautiful Oceanside of the small island as their vacation retreat.
Maria Marshall and her companion had come purely and simply for relaxation and sensual pleasure, away from everyone they knew or might bump into.
Maria was a tall, voluptuous girl of twenty-seven. She possessed a truly gorgeous figure. Her 39 inch breasts were firm and finely molded, well able to jut forward without the support of a brassiere. Her beautifully curved thighs had a soft sheen which lent them the satin texture of skin-colored stockings; and her waist was very minute for such a full-figured girl.
Furthermore, Maria Marshall was the leading judo expert among female exponents of the sport in the U.S. She was the proud owner of a black belt and had participated in an extended unarmed combat course in Japan.
She was also the top female agent for Western Intelligence.
Maria emerged from the dazzling blue sea like a love goddess from the foam, her wispy red bikini clinging to her wet skin. She shook her long, golden hair, letting it cascade freely around her lovely shoulders, then stepped up the slight sandy incline to the beach umbrella.
Taking a towel and patting herself dry, Maria sprawled gracefully out under the blazing hot sun to catch every last ray of the quick tanning heat. Her almost naked body was already stained a becoming coppertone though this was only her third day at the Riviera. Another three weeks of this, she sighed blissfully. Another three weeks of doing nothing but relax. Heaven!
The girl lying beside her lit a cigarette and put it between Maria's lips. She watched as Maria drew deeply on the king-size filter then blew a long stream of blue smoke out into the windless air.
Her name was Sandra. She had nothing to do with Intelligence but worked as a secretary in Washington D.C. She had met Maria at a party and the two girls had been very close friends ever since. This was their first holiday together, the first time for two years that Maria had been able to get away in between her assignments.
Sandra knew that her friend worked for Western Intelligence, but had no idea of the important capacity she held. That was something Maria refused to talk about to anyone.
Maria and Sandra both intended to get as tanned and sun-baked as possible. Sandra slipped her arms out of her bikini top. Although her breasts couldn't be compared in actual size with those of Maria's, Sandra certainly owned two lovely and well-shaped globes. They were half out of their cups, the edge of her red nipples just visible.
Too bad we can't sunbathe in the nude, she thought. I suppose it's against the local laws, but it seems such a nuisance that we've got to cover ourselves up like this when the place is so deserted. She glanced behind them. The beach stretched for some 50 yards to their rear, and then the trees took over, the verdant scent wafting through the still air and adding to their pleasure.
"Do you really think anyone's likely to come along and see us?" Sandra asked. "And even if they did, would it matter all that much?"
Maria glanced up lazily. "I think that's a great idea!" she exclaimed. "Why on earth didn't we think of it before? We can soon slip our bikinis on again if we hear a boat approaching. Here, you untie mine and I'll do yours."
She pulled loose the bow which kept Sandra's bikini-bra up and the flimsy material dropped to the soft sand. Turning, Maria presented her back to Sandra and felt the girl perform the same service for her. "Mmmm, that's better!" she sighed. "Pants as well?"
"Why not?" Sandra smiled. "If we're going to expose ourselves we might as well go all the way!"
They stood up and within a few seconds were stripped of their swimming costumes, two deliciously naked and beautiful girls in a setting of breathtaking natural beauty.
As they settled down to get themselves tanned, Sandra exclaimed: "Hey, wait a minute! Our breasts and tummies are going to be burnt like hell 'if we don't smother them with lotion, not to mention our asses! We'd better rub ourselves with it."