The Doomsday Conspiracy

“Let's get your trousers off.” She undid his belt and helped him slide his pants down. He was already tumescent.

“Ach! Ein grosser!” She began to stroke him.

He moaned, “Leck mich doch am Schwanz.”

“You like to be kissed down there?”

“Ja.” His wife never did that for him.

“Gut. Now just relax.”

Beckerman sighed and closed his eyes. Her soft hands were caressing his balls. He felt the sharp sting of a needle in his thigh, and his eyes flew open. “Wie—?”

His body stiffened, and his eyes bulged out. He was choking, unable to breathe. The woman watched as Beckerman slumped over the steering wheel. She got out of the car and slid his body into the passenger seat, then got behind the wheel of the car and drove back down the dirt road onto the highway. At the edge of the steep mountain road, she waited until the road was clear, then opened the door, stepped on the gas pedal, and as the car started to move, she jumped. She stood there watching the car tumble down the steep cliff. Five minutes later, a black limousine pulled up beside her.

“Irgendwelche Problem?”

“Keins.”

Fritz Mandel was in his office ready to close the garage when two men approached.

“I'm sorry,” he said, “I'm closing. I can't—”

One of the men interrupted. “Our car is stuck down the highway. Kaputt! We need a tow.”

“My wife is waiting for me. We are having company tonight. I can give you the name of another—”

“It's worth two hundred dollars to us. We're in a hurry.”

“Two hundred dollars?”

“Yes. And our car is in pretty bad shape. We'd like you to do some work on it. That would probably come to another two, three hundred.”

Mandel was becoming interested. “Ja?”

“It's a Rolls,” one of the men said. “Let's see the kind of equipment you have here.” They walked into the service area and stood at the edge of the pit. “That's pretty good equipment.”

“Yes, sir,” Mandel said proudly. “The very best.”

The stranger took out a wallet. “Here. I can give you some money in advance.” He removed some bills and handed them to Mandel. As he did so, the wallet slipped out of his hands and fell down into the pit. “Verflucht!”

“Don't worry,” Mandel said. “I'll get it.”

He climbed down into the pit. As he did so, one of the men walked over to the control button that operated the raised hydraulic lift and pressed it. The lift started to descend.

Mandel looked up. “Be careful! What are you doing?”

He started to scramble up the side. As his fingers touched the ledge, the second man slammed his foot down on Mandel's hand, smashing it, and Mandel dropped back down into the pit, shrieking. The heavy hydraulic lift was inexorably descending on him.

“Let me out of here!” he cried. “Hilfe!”

The lift caught him on his shoulder and began pressing him down into the cement floor. A few minutes later, when the terrible screams had stopped, one of the men pressed the button that raised the lift. His companion went down into the pit and retrieved his wallet, careful not to get blood on his clothes. The two men returned to their car and drove off into the quiet night.

FLASH MESSAGE

TOP SECRET ULTRA

ESPIONAGE ABTEILUNG TO

DEPUTY DIRECTOR NSA

EYES ONLY

COPY ONE OF (ONE) COPIES

SUBJECT:

OPERATION DOOMSDAY

1. HANS BECKERMAN—

TERMINATED

2. FRITZ MANDEL—

TERMINATED

END OF MESSAGE

Ottawa, Canada

2400 Hours

Janus was addressing the group of twelve.

“Satisfactory progress is being made. Two of the witnesses have already been silenced. Commander Bellamy is on the trail of a third.”

“Has there been a breakthrough yet on SDI?” The Italian. Impetuous. Volatile.

“Not yet, but we're confident that the Star Wars technology will be up and functioning very soon.”

“We must do everything possible to hurry it. If it is a question of money—” The Saudi. Enigmatic. Withdrawn.

“No. There's just a bit more testing to do.”

“When is the next test taking place?” The Australian. Hearty. Clever.

“In one week. We will meet here again in forty-eight hours.”