Chapter No. 18 The Fifth Angel

Damn it! I hate being in the dark! I can't see a goddamned thing. What's that sniffing? Is that damn rat around here?

Marian Stram sat up in bed like a jack-in-the-box, sweat glistening on her face, her heart racing, and her lungs expelling short but violent breaths. She reached out and fumbled around on a nightstand, knocking things over, rapping her knuckles on a hard wooden edge before finding a light switch

.

Light! Wonderful eye-filling, soul-soothing light.

Her husband was not in the bed across from hers.

She sighed, not from discontent but from relief. Gingerly, she swung her legs out from under beige satin sheets and planted her feet on a dark blue Ferahan carpet with repeating herab designs. Her bandaged feet were inserted into plush fur-lined slipper. She reached out to retrieve her cane--a long walnut stick with a handle carved into a large sea horse--and slowly lifted her fragile body up from the bed. She struggled to the door and turned the knob.

"Franklin!" Her eyes widened in surprise, but they quickly narrowed.

Franklin looked her over but said nothing, nor did his face indicate anything.

"Where's my husband?"

"He's in the aquarium lab."

She gave him a disinterested look before starting down the hall.

"Do you require assistance?" Franklin asked as he chased after her.

"I'm not an invalid . . . yet."

Franklin followed her but kept his distance.

He dispassionately watched her make her torturous way down a long hall to a double door and then balance on the cane so that she could move the door's latch with both hands.

The instant he saw the door crack open, Julius rushed to her side. "What are you doing up, my Pet? The doctor told you to rest."

She managed a weak smile. "You should know me by now, Julie. I can't stay cooped up for any length of time. I need excitement."

Julius looked at her with disapproving eyes, but he knew it would be a waste of time to argue with her. In a way he was glad to see her up and about after her brush with oblivion.

Marian hopped over to a bench and leaned on it, using the cane to prop her delicate frame.

"What are you doing, Julie?"

He walked over to a binocular microscope with a video pickup. The image of a dissected specimen filled a large flat monitor.

"Oh, I'm just examining some new specimens from the Aqua Lab."

Marian's eyes swiveled wildly, trying to take in every new thing in the lab at once. Her eyes soon riveted on the denizens of a small aquarium.

She placed her hand on the side and rubbed it around as if she could feel the specimens contained within. "What are these?"

"I'm not sure, my Pet," her husband said without looking up from the microscope. "They found them somewhere in the Micronesia archipelago."

She examined the rapidly swimming creatures for several minutes. They were nearly a foot in length and had flesh colored top halves with gray bottoms ending in rudimentary flukes. Their heads appeared fish-like with the usual gills, but there was a curious round aperture in each of their foreheads.

"Is this some new fish species?"

"I don't know, my Pet. They look like some kind of larvae, but I've never seen larvae that large."

"What makes you think they're larvae?"

"If you look carefully, you can see the egg yokes."

He punched a few keys and a new image appeared on the monitor. "See it?" She nodded. "And there's evidence of testes." He pointed. "Right there. See the two lobes."

Marian was all eyes, but her eyes soon narrowed. "This looks like some sort of hybrid. Are you sure this isn't an experiment gone bad?"

He laughed. "No, my Pet. It's not one of our failures. It was found near a reef."

"If that's true, then the species this larvae metamorphoses into must be quite large. I know of no large species of marine life that uses a larval reproductive method."

"You're right, my Pet. It's an anomaly."

She winced, but she repressed any vocal evidence of pain.

Her husband was not fooled. "You are in pain, my Pet. You should be in bed."

She managed a weak smile. "Do not concern yourself. It's only my fractured ribs protesting, but it is of no concern."

"To you perhaps, but not to me." He paused to consider his words. "I'll tell you what. If you go and rest, I'll reward you with a present, something you'll enjoy."

She stared at his pudgy face for several seconds before she shook her head and sighed. "Ok, Julie. I'll do as you wish."

With that, she righted herself and plodded out of the lab. Her husband smiled. He seldom wins a battle with his insouciant wife. This was a moment to savor.

###

Alan Anderson leaned back in his plush leather chair and sighed. He doesn't like what's happening, but he's powerless to do anything about it. Someone on the payroll of the Institute is a spy and a saboteur, and he has no idea who it is. Even worse, the safety of everyone at the Institute is being threatened in a very uncomfortable way. He could only hope that Willis has been successful with his undercover investigation.

His intercom buzzed.

"Yes?" he said into it after pressing the answer button.

"Mr. Willis is here," his secretary said.

"Send him in . . . Oh, and hold all my calls."

"Yes, sir."

Willis entered the door and immediately sat his heavy-set robust frame down in a chair in front of Anderson's desk. He stared at his boss with his large protruding eyes for several seconds before beginning.

"We've traced all of the unauthorized communiqués to one employee, but I have good reason to suspect that there's more than one involved." He handed a paper to Anderson. "His name's Andrew Meyers, but that's not his real name. He's a Russian national, but he's working for the U.S. We should have his true identification soon as I use my inside contacts."

Anderson rubbed a hand over his face. "I hate this."

"We're lucky, in a way," Willis said, rubbing the back of his thick neck.

"How's that?" Anderson's eyes reflected his disbelief that the situation could be construed into something positive.

"We're aware that something's going on. Thanks to Dr. Hauptman, we now know there's a saboteur here at the institute, and they know they have one on the Nautilus."

Anderson's brow wrinkled. "The real question is: why are we dealing with saboteurs and spies. We're a research institute, not the CIA."

Willis squinted. "Obviously, the Nautilus has blundered onto something that has strategic significance." He rubbed his neck again. "Although, I can't imagine what it could be."

"Yes. This is a completely ludicrous situation."

"I guess it proves one thing, though."

Anderson's bushy eyebrows rose. "What's that?"

"There's still a lot of espionage going on out there despite the end of the cold war."

Anderson slowly shook his head. He never dreamed he would find himself involved in a matter of espionage.

"How should we proceed?"

Willis exhaled a long breath. "We've already interrogated him."

Anderson's bushy eyebrows rose higher this time. "Oh, really?"

"Don't concern yourself." He waved a large hand in a dismissive manner. "We only roughed him up a bit. Nothing serious."

"Did you find out anything?"

"Not much. Those Russians are tough hombres. We did get a name. We're checking it out."

"What did you do with him?"

"Who?"

"Andrew . . . or whatever his name is."

Willis flashed a brief grin. "We've got him locked up."

"Aren't you afraid he'll escape."

"Nah. He's not dressed for it."

"Excuse me?"

"He's not wearing anything."

Anderson's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure that's wise?"

"Don't worry. We're not going to do anything to him. We'll let him go . . . after we're satisfied he won't cause anymore trouble."

"I see."

Good grief! What have we come to?

###

Julius heard the tap-tap-tap of a cane and smiled. His wife was up and ready to discover the surprise he had promised her. She was like a little child anticipating the opening of a birthday present, but she could be contrary like a child. And when she's contrary she's unstable.

"Ah, you have decided to join the living, my Pet."

She did not appear happy. "I do not feel like a member of the living." She flashed a brief smile. "But, I can't stand the boredom of the bed."

"I can understand that." He grinned, an expression that confused his wife. "However, I have something that will brighten your day."

Her eyes lit up. "What is it, Julie?"

"My operatives have captured an agent of the Russian intelligence, a Gregory Popovich. That's not his real name. We're working on that. He was in the same building that you were in when the earthquake hit."

"What? I find that hard to believe. How did he escape?"

"He wasn't tied up as you were. He probably ran out at the first sign of the quake."

"What are you going to do to him?" Her face radiated demonic amusement, or at least the anticipation of sadistic amusement.

"I think that our little fishes need fed, my Pet. Don't you agree?"

She huffed. "You're not going to allow me to interrogate him?"

"Don't fret, my Pet. We've already done that. You were in no shape to do an interrogation."

"You take all the fun out of it, Julie." Her face reinforced her disappointment.

"We left the best part to last, just for you."

That brought a grin as wide as her face. "Thank you. I appreciate it, I can assure you. When can we proceed?"

Julius smiled. "He's already in the pit. You may have the honors."

"Oh, thank you, Julie. I love you."

She turned to leave, but swiveled her head. "Let's go."

He gestured to the door. "You go have your fun. I have work to do." His smile was only external. He felt an uncomfortable quiver in his stomach.

She gave him an acknowledging nod before she hobbled on her cane as fast as she could to an elevator at the far end of the hall. It took her some time to manipulate the gate, but she was soon headed to a lower level.

After she exited from the elevator, Marian made her way to a small room, and in that bare white concrete room was a small window covered by a metal hatch.

Marian wasted no time in unlatching it and swinging it open. She had to stick her head into the cavity that it opened into in order to view an inner room, a strange room that was ten feet long and only three feet wide, with walls that were eight-inch thick and constructed of smooth painted concrete. This strange room's floor was covered with two feet of water.

Under the revealing light of several xenon lamps, a lone occupant stood near the far wall, his back facing the only window. He was busy smashing his fist against the hard concrete of his prison in a vain attempt to escape and yelling and cursing. He never noticed the room's only window open.

Marian carefully studied his backside, noting the flabbiness of his buttocks and how the musculature of his back was hidden by fat, fat that formed lines where his lats draped under his scapulars and his obliques bulged around his waist. His legs were muscular but not well proportioned to the rest of his body; they seemed too thin compared to the heft of his upper body.

When he turned and looked up at Marian's grinning face, Gregory Popovich instinctively covered his genitals with his large hands and twisted his face with anger.

"Why have you taken my clothes? This is intolerable. I want to see whoever is in charge of this hell hole."

The high-pitched male voice with a hint of Eastern European accent brought a devilish grin to Marian's lips.

She took her good old time scanning her eyes over the front of his body. He had a fairly muscular physique, judging by his tightly shaped pectorals decorated with dark nipples and his well defined biceps, but his belly protruded and his legs were slightly bowed. A dark wild bushy patch of hair covered his chest and it matched the excess hair on his arms and legs. His face was still decently young in appearance, a condition he attempted to hide with a bushy mustache.

"How is little Albert doing? Did he get to eat someone's face?"

The look on Gregory's hard face was a mixture of surprise and disgust. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"It's irrelevant. I don't like rats. You won't find one around here." She laughed. "As for your clothes--you're not here for a social visit. You've been invited to dinner." She giggled violently. "And the diners prefer you in your birthday suit."

"His face exploded with anger--and confusion. "What are you babbling about? It's indecent to expose a male to a female." He said the last word in a condescending manner.

She laughed. "Doesn't bother me. And, the diners won't mind. They prefer their meat rare."

"What are you talking about? What diners?"

She cackled. "Diners, as in carnivores. You're the dinner."

His face twisted with indignation. "You're going to allow rats to attack me?"

"No. As I said, we don't use rats. We prefer piranhas, the highly predacious Pygocentrus piranhas to be precise, and they get hungry like your Albert."

He began to look down at the water, nervously shifting his eyes around. He swallowed hard. "Piranhas consume their prey quickly. Why don't you just shoot me? It would be much cleaner."

She giggled again; her eyes were wide with demonic pleasure. "That's a myth. Piranhas are simply carnivores. They only strip the flesh of their victims quickly if they group together in large numbers and there's a feeding frenzy. I wouldn't assume that it will go quickly for you. I'm only going to release a few of them at a time. They'll simply nibble you. It's more fun that way, don't you agree?"

She laughed derisively, the high-pitched cackles echoing with a nerve piercing loudness from the smooth walls of the pit.

He cursed in his native tongue, but his anger was a waste of time--and irrelevant. She had endured the anger of many victims. It was expected and summarily ignored.

"You're mad! We would never subject anyone to such an indecent fate."

"Horseshit! You subjected me to such a fate . . . if the earthquake hadn't interrupted."

Silence.

Oh, well, it's time to have fun and . . . and to see just what Gregory is hiding under his hands.

She pushed a button twice and then waited for the fun to begin.

It didn't take long. Two piranhas shot out of an underwater tank and immediately headed for their meal. When he felt the first bites, Gregory only jumped, but soon he was running around, hopping up and down, yelling and cursing. The water slowly took on a reddish tint. His yells quickly escalated into screams that merged with her tormentor's cackles.

Marian waited patiently. Normally, she would allow several piranhas to join their brethren at the dinner plate, but she was content to allow this meal to be savored slowly.

The piranhas' snack was now a vision of agitated motion, screaming at top of its lungs and jumping around like a mad dog, clawing at the walls in a vain effort to escape the hellish torment of little wedge-shaped razor-sharp teeth biting into soft flesh. The wounds bled into the water, causing the diners to become even more frenzied.

Nibbling, just like she said.

Gregory tripped, allowing the diners momentary access to more tender locations. The cursing victim jumped up with a piranha firmly clamped on his buttocks, a sight that caused Marion to explode with raspy, shrieking laughter.

What Marian really enjoyed was the fact that Gregory was not the least bit concerned with his modesty anymore. He was too busy trying to escape a fate worse than death. He provided a glorious spectacle of naked male flesh in agitated motion. Marian was surprised that her victim possessed an unusually long penis.

She just loves large male genitals. In fact, male sexual organs drive her to delirium, and this male's organ was the largest she had ever seen. She focused all of her attention on his marvelous manhood, delighting in how it flopped, bent and twisted like a rubber hose and whipped against his thighs and belly when he jumped up and down. She squealed like a teenager when she saw how his large scrotum quivered and flapped around crazily like a rooster's wattle. She laughed, giggled, hooted, whistled, and squeaked. Her entire body vibrated with intense excitement. She deliberately allowed this sadistic display to continue for some time before pushing the button that allowed new diners to enter the dining room.

Marian derived great pleasure from seeing her former tormentor being tormented, watching him jump around in complete panic, listening to him scream in pain, seeing his living flesh provide a gory meal for simple minded beasts, beasts that were simply satisfying a hunger, impervious to the suffering they were inflicting on a member of earth's dominant species. What glorious revenge!

Soon, he would weaken and fall, allowing access to the rest of his body. Blood loss and shock would eventually terminate his suffering, but the show would not be over. A new army of famished diners would pick his bones clean. Piranhas love to clean their plates.

She enjoyed watching the water explode with the activity of eating, seeing water mixed with blood boiling violently as the diners competed for the last morsels of the victim. Only bones would be left, the final remains of her victim. The empty eyes of the victim's skull will stare out at her, crying vainly for mercy.

But, mercy was not her favorite virtue. She preferred sweet revenge.

###

"Finished so soon?" Julius asked his sulking wife.

She slowly turned to look into his tired eyes. A cigarette dangled from her lips and jumped around when she spoke. "It was a short lived pleasure. I would have preferred to interrogate this one. He would have provided many hours of fun."

He sat down next to her on a French provincial couch. "You were in no shape to do an interrogation, my Pet. We had to know what his involvement in this business . . ."

"I could have done it. Even if I felt like shit, I would have done it. This one was a marvelous specimen. He had the largest . . ."

He giggled. "I just knew you wouldn't miss that."

She laughed briefly, but her face slowly relaxed into a comatose stare.

"I wonder what it would feel like." Her eyes stared at an imagined scene.

"What?"

She sighed. "What would it feel like to be eaten alive? I almost had my face eaten by a rat, but I never had a chance to experience it. I can't imagine what it would be like to be eaten by piranhas; to have your flesh consumed right in front of your eyes. What would that be like? Huh, Julie?"

Julius swallowed into a churning stomach. "Do not bother yourself with such concerns, my Pet." He turned away for a few seconds. "Perhaps you should see Dr. Griffin. I'm sure he can assuage your concerns much better than I."

She sat up with wide eyes. "You think I'm losing it. Don't you, Julie?"

"No, my Pet. I just think you need to come to grips with your morbid fantasies. You worry me. I don't want you to project your fantasy into reality."

She laughed, but it was gravely and punctuated with coughs. "Don't worry yourself, Julie. I'm not going to get into the pit with our hungry fishes. They wouldn't find me to be a very satisfying meal. I would be more of a snack."

This time Julius laughed. "A very delicious snack, though."

"Thank you, Julie. I appreciate that."

Why, I'll never know, butif it makes her happy . . .