Overkill. Part 11

Inga didn't hesitate, the pistol still pointed at her, but perhaps she saw a chance. She had never done it with a woman before, but...

Andrea watched, and as the last garment was shed, stood close in front of the naked girl. 'You have told me everything about your night together?'

The events flickered in freeze frame style through her mind. It was possible she might have the order wrong, had the acts out of sequence, but that was all. 'Yes. I have told you everything.'

'Did you enjoy it?'

This she had to reply to carefully. Inga was aware of that. She had to inject something, a hint of reservation. 'It was nice, yes, but... but a man cannot truly understand a woman, know what she really wants.' Anxiously she watched for a reaction, but could see none.

'You are cold?'

Looking down at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s Inga saw that her nipples had hardened. 'I think I am, yes, a little.'

'There is one last thing I want to know. Show me how he kisses.' It was the chance she'd been waiting for. Taking the half-pace that was all that separated them, Inga put her arms round Andrea's neck, pulled her close and kissed her hard and long on the lips. At first there was no response, then a hand pressed into her back and made the embrace go on. She was breathless when she was allowed to break away. Her whole body tingled as though it was undergoing a mild electric shock, only pleasant. It would be possible for her to get to like this, perhaps eventually she could even recruit this enigmatic girl.

'Do it again.'

This time it was less harsh and lasted even longer as she forced her tongue into Andrea's sweet tasting mouth.

'And that is how he kissed you? Exactly the same way?' 'Exactly like that.'

'Thank you. That is all I wanted to know.'

Five shots. .h.i.t Inga in the chest and she died instantly, before her body finished bouncing on the bed on to which the impacts threw it.

Before retrieving her rifle and going out, Andrea shook the contents of the oil lamp over the bed, laid a trail of it into the lounge and let the rest of it soak into the carpet around the radio. A last time she walked to the bedroom door and looked at the body sprawled face down on the stained sheets. She could still taste the blonde's lipstick.

Blue flame rippled from the growing blaze by the radio, across the carpet and into the bedroom. She left the front door open to give the fire a plentiful supply of air. By the time it was noticed it would have a good hold, be out of control.

As she went down the stairs she removed the clip from the b.u.t.t of the pistol and with loose sh.e.l.ls she took from a pocket began to reload.

Five bullets had been too many. Two would have been sufficient, three at most. She must discipline herself; in future three would be her maximum, any more would be wasteful overkill.

THE ZONE Series by James Rouch:

HARD TARGET.

BLIND FIRE.

HUNTER KILLER.

SKY STRIKE.

OVERKILL.

KILLING GROUND.

PLAGUE BOMB.

CIVILIAN SLAUGHTER.

BODY COUNT.

DEATH MARCH.