The door to the bedroom was jerked open and the beam of a powerful light cut through the darkness. It found the bed and held steady, blindingly, on the two heads that were close together. Hewlitt raised himself on one elbow and, in a voice he managed to make sound startled, called out, “What the hell!”
Two men came in, one holding the light. Unceremoniously the other jerked back the covers and surveyed the two naked bodies pressed together. He hesitated for several seconds, drinking in as much of Barbara’s body as was visible. Then with one hand he pushed her shoulder, turning her onto her back.
The man studied the body revealed before him, then tossed the covers back into position. For a few seconds the other swept the light around the room, then they were gone.
“God damn them!” Hewlitt raged. “I’ll kill every one of them!”
It was for their benefit, of course, if they heard him, and Barbara knew that; she pressed an arm across his chest commanding him to remain in bed. Hewlitt thought and realized that that would be the natural thing to do; charging naked through the corridors in pursuit of armed men would be idiotic and no sane person would do it, no matter how furious he might be.
They heard a scream from Mary’s room, but it was one of fright and not terror. “Stay here,” Barbara whispered in his ear. “She’s all right. I know.”
He could do little else; his clothes, apart from his shorts, had been left in the other room and in a few fast seconds Davy had probably taken them away. There was the sound of a man going downstairs and more tramping in the corridor, but the bedroom door remained shut.
“What if any more of them come in here to look at you?” Hewlitt asked her softly.
“Let them,” she answered. It was not tight-lipped, simply practical — the only possible solution to an acutely dangerous situation.
Hewlitt thought next of Davy and wondered if he needed help. He half-started to rise when once more Barbara held him down. “Don’t,” she said. “You can’t do anything.”
Tense as he was, he knew that she was right. How any girl could keep her cool in the midst of an enemy raid with an unexpected man in her bed he did not know, but Barbara managed it. He took comfort in the realization that he had heard no sounds of violence, no scuffling, no cries of distress or pain. Mary had made no further outcry; the whole noise level seemed to be dropping. Then he heard at least two men going downstairs, which could mean that for the moment at least they were alone.
Then he felt Barbara’s finger across his lips. At that moment he remembered a story he had read as a boy — about someone who was pretending sleep in a flophouse that was being raided. He had heard the intruders depart in just the same way, but he had lain perfectly still for a full half hour, breathing steadily as though he had been in deep slumber. Then, finally, he had heard the man who had been waiting patiently and noiselessly just outside his door at last give up his vigil and walk away.
Presently he became embarrassingly aware of the girl beside him. He had often thought how rewarding it would be to be in bed with Barbara, but it had not been a casual thing with him. Now, out of necessity, Barbara was beside him: warm, close, and naked as a girl in bed should always be. His nerves were still far from composed, but with the first respite from the raid that had just taken place, he could no longer ignore the circumstances.
His thoughts were interrupted by more noise from downstairs and the sound of angry voices. He recognized Davy’s baritone in the jumble of heated talk. There were additional sounds from outside and then at last the coming of a blessed quiet. Five full, tension-locked minutes passed, then there was a soft tap on the door. “Yes?” Hewlitt responded.
The door opened just enough to allow Davy to slide in. “Our guests have gone,” he said. “Sorry if you were inconvenienced.”
“Say that you were and I’ll bite your ear off,” Barbara whispered. Davy heard her, but he made no comment. “We were warned just in time,” he said. “They didn’t find anything. Hew, I’ll get your clothes back to you as soon as I can.”
“No rush,” Barbara said. “He isn’t going anywhere.”
Hewlitt heard her, but his mind was preoccupied. “How about it?” he asked. “Has this house had it? They know where we are now.”
“They’ve known all the time,” Davy answered. “We wanted them to. Tonight they came for a look and found just what they were expecting. There’s a lot of stuff hidden here, but they didn’t come close to any of it.”
“How about Percival?”
“He’s all right, he left some time ago. Now get some sleep if you can.” He went out and closed the door behind him.
When they were alone once more, Hewlitt discovered that Barbara was shaking a very little as she lay beside him. For a moment he wondered if it was because of him, then he felt her arm tighten around him. “I was scared,” she confessed in a whisper.
“So was I,” Hewlitt said softly. “I still am a little.”
It was awkwardly silent then; he felt that he should say something, but he was not sure what. “This may not be just the time and place to mention it,” he managed, “but, well, corny as it may sound, I am falling in love with you.”
She tilted her head up toward him and there was a slight movement of her body against his own. “Thank you. When you’re in bed with a naked lady, it’s quite appropriate to tell her that you find her nice.”
She turned sideways until she was facing him, her breasts pressed firmly against his chest. Although the only light was what came in from the streets, he could see her very clearly. Her hair was billowed about her face; at that particular moment her normal attractiveness was enormously amplified as though some undiscovered alchemy had transformed her into the most beautiful and desirable woman who had ever been born.
He banished from his mind the thoughts that had been shuttle-cocking back and forth about the raid, the inspection of her body that he had witnessed, and the almost violently abrupt manner in which they had been thrown together.
He kissed her, reasonably gently at first, but when he knew that she was fully and freely, even joyfully responsive, he let himself give way to a mounting passion. She was a woman who knew how to give of herself, and to receive back all that she gave — and more. He was immensely grateful, because this was the way he wanted it to be — the way he had dreamed it would be.
He ran his hand down the smooth subtle curvature of her back, his fingertips relaying the magic feel of her skin. She made a very small noise and his blood pounded harder because of it. He held his hand against the soft contour of her buttocks and then pressed her hard to him in the beginning moments of realization.
More than one thousand miles northwest of San Francisco, four hundred and twenty-five feet below the surface of the Pacific Ocean, the captain of the U.S.S. Ramon Magsaysay sat in his small office, in full command of his ship, his crew, and himself. Seated before him was one of the two enemy representatives who were on board his command, the one who had literally jumped for his life at the last minute when the submarine had been slipping her moorings at Hunters Point. Standing in the doorway, by invitation, was the commander of the shipyard whose overseer the uninvited guest had been.
“What is your name?” the captain asked.
The man responded with a cascade of syllables that was all but incomprehensible. It appeared to start out with Klem, but that was all that could be understood.