The Forests of the Night

I said dismissively. "Pierre was unavoidably detained. I'm sure he would want to be here if he could." I made it sound like he had been locked up.

I added, "My name is Victor. I have taken Pierre's place." I continued to tie up the boat, like the matter was settled.

The man checked me out. What he saw was a gorilla with a thick pelt of black hair slicked back like a gangster, twenty-two-inch neck, dark glittering eyes and a five o'clock shadow, on a very firm jaw.

He decided that if it looked like a thug and talked like a thug, it must BE a thug. So, he gave one of the evocative Gallic shrugs and said, "What have you brought me?"

I said, "This is a particularly delectable piece. One I have enjoyed all the way from Roumare. She is extremely enthusiastic, and she will make us all very rich."

I gave him a conspiratorial wink and said, "The rest of the cargo is in the customary spot." I dragged Bernadette out of the cabin. She looked submissive and unspeakably beautiful.

The douchebag's mouth actually fell open. Bernadette was in a ripped blouse, without a bra. Her prominent brown nipples showing through the rents. She looked thoroughly and extensively fucked, tousled hair and glassy eyed.

That wasn't an act. We had spent a couple of hours making up for lost time after dropping the Meiers.

I thought Marcel was going to slobber all over my freshly scrubbed deck. The guy said awed, "Merde!! They have NEVER sent me one like this." I could see him figuratively rubbing his hands together.

Marcel walked up to Bernadette, who looked down at her feet, passively. He hefted and bounced one of her lovely tits, then he slid the hand down her smooth flat stomach to rub her mound. She just stood there obediently.

He pulled up her dress, exposing her naked lower belly. He rubbed the hand between her legs, coming back with a coating of man-juice and her fluids. He seemed satisfied. Bernadette's eyes got a momentary flash of utter humiliation. But, she was resolute and a warrior.

I had told her that the piece-of-shit was going to do that to her, and I cautioned that Aurore's fate hung on her ability to let it happen. I saw her body tense. But she looked at the slimeball meekly without a hint of the fire-storm of anger that I knew was burning inside.

He said, "But, she is superb Monsieur, a pièce de résistance. She will be our centerpiece." Then he reached in his pocket and came out with a small bag of twenty-frank gold coins. He said, "Your fee."

He took Bernadette's arm and turned to walk off the barge. He thought our business was settled. I said direly, "Wait my friend. I am not going to let you have this valuable woman for the usual price. I will need three times that amount before I will consider it." I was counting on him not having the cash.

He said, "But Monsieur, I don't have that kind of money with me."

I said, "Well then, lead-on and I will follow. I'm sure you have that much at your establishment." I was almost certain that he would take us to the place where Aurore was being kept.

I was surprised when Marcel led us to a beaten-up Peugeot. Gas was a problem, even then. However, his knocking-shop supported an essential aspect of morale for the troops who were constructing the Atlantic wall. So, he had liberal access to transportation.

Marcel's place of business was ten miles away in Deauville. We rode there in his rattle-trap car, he and I in the front and our cargo sitting docilly in the back. I knew it was killing my ferocious little lover to act so tame. But Bernadette was grimly determined to save her friend, and part of the price was sacrificing her pride.

It turned out that, besides being an arrogant douchebag, Marcel was also the mastermind behind the whole operation. So, he just HAD to brag.

He said that he and Robert had done a stretch in La Sante together in the late '30s. They got in touch after the Germans showed up. Everybody knew that the Nazi's had a giant hard-on for the Jews. So, those two geniuses figured that the richer ones would try to buy their way to safety.

Given that assumption, they recruited a few more of their ilk. Over the past day, I had personally reduced that merry band by six souls, and as soon as we found Aurore I planned to increase the total by another.

It was ingenious - really. There were multiple revenue streams. First, there was the legitimate money that the desperate Jews paid to be whisked away from the Nazis. Then there were the ill-gotten gains from robbing and killing them. Those were the short-term profits.

The real money makers were any girls who were attractive enough to stock Marcel's whorehouse. A sensual beauty like Bernadette would be the gift that just kept on giving.

Deauville is the closest resort to Paris. Hence, the rich and famous have cavorted there since before the Fin de Siècle. It has a famous racetrack, glorious boardwalk and sandy beach. Naturally, there were a lot of hotels. The Wehrmacht had appropriated one of the less prominent, but still opulent, places to serve as a "haven of relaxation" for its officers.

Marcel said that the idea came to him when the Huns started complaining about the quality of his merchandise. The German's complaint was that his whores were – well - whores! So, Marcel had to come up with an innovative solution, to "develop" a reliable stream of fresh, young beauties.

The answer came in a flash. He would remove their entire family, preferably in front of them. The shock and despair of witnessing such brutality would quickly convince those poor women to submit.

Marcel bragged about the many well-bred young women he had "broken" since the New Year. He laughed and said, "None of them were virgins. They may have been when they left Paris. But they weren't when they arrived in Honfleur, ha-ha."

It was excruciating, and I could see Bernadette seething in the back seat. I gave her a warning look. I would deal with Marcel soon, and Robert also had a visit scheduled.

We arrived in front of a small seaside establishment. It was two stories and obviously a hotel catering to the middle-class trade. The red, black and white flag with the swastika, flapping in the brisk sea breeze, proclaimed its new ownership.

As Marcel talked his way into an early grave, I was thinking about the end-game. We were originally going with Marcel just to find and free Aurore. But, after listening to that unspeakable piece of human excrement brag, I decided that a change of plan was in order. I wanted to permanently retire Marcel and his entire operation.

The problem was that, I didn't know how many people I would have to deal with, and cleaning house could get dangerous and bloody. Hence, I needed both Bernadette and Aurore safely out of the way.

That gave me an inspiration. I got out of the car and grabbed Bernadette by the arm. I was rough, and it caused her to squawk, but I had to convey my possession of her. She gave me a questioning look. But, she came submissively, flawlessly in character. I thought to myself, "Now, THAT'S trust."

I said, "Marcel, my friend, I have a proposition for you. I want to enjoy this delectable little morsel one more time. She is very special. But I have already had her in the regular fashion so, I want a manage-a-trois. I'm a man of extraordinary appetites and I get so bored just fucking one of them."

Marcel looked both impressed and reluctant. So, I added with my voice dripping persuasion, "I will forgive your debt if you let her and one of your current stock of ladies amuse me. It will only be three or four hours, I've already had her several times today, and it will save you many francs."

His close-set, piggy eyes filled with greed. He said, "That will not be possible Monsieur. My girls are very expensive unless you are a German. Most of them were virgins until very recently and my regular customers do not want them to be over-used."

I nodded with understanding and said, "But of course; however, you would have no hesitation if I added some of the money that you just gave me." I withdrew the little leather bag and jingled the coins inside.

I saw the light go on. Marcel had no equal when it came to mindless greed. He said eagerly, "I believe we can accommodate your wish."

The reception area of the old hotel had been turned into a cheap Parisian salon, like the types Madame Du Berry might have frequented. That is, if she had lost all basic sense of taste and refinement.

It was late morning. The place was open for business. But there were only three real beauties standing there waiting, tits out. They all looked totally broken and hopeless.

I said scornfully, "Is this all you have? They aren't worth even one franc." It was a bluff. I hated disparaging their looks. But, I didn't see Aurore. I would apologize to the ladies later.

I said dripping disdain, "I will have to take my possession and leave if you have no more women for me." This was the point in the game where we turned over the last card.

Things got tense as I took Bernadette by the arm and started to walk angrily toward the exit. Marcel looked like he had swallowed a pigeon. I could see that his greed was choking him.

He said anxiously, "I have one more girl, but she is not yet properly trained. She only arrived last month, and we have not had the time to teach her all that she needs to know."

I had been reconnoitering the room as he spoke. Besides Marcel, there was a woman who was clearly the madam. She was a fearsome sight indeed; painted like Mardi Gras Parade float, with a peacock feather in her hair. Her impressive and well-preserved tits were in a late 19th Century bustier; the corset was helping them defy gravity.

There were two musclebound goons who were clearly there to keep order. It was a workable challenge assuming no Germans intervened. I said with fake excitement, "But, I must see this girl. Perhaps she will justify the entire five-hundred."

Marcel slobbered with greed. He said, "Please excuse me Monsieur," and disappeared into a hallway. When he returned, he brought along a downcast and thoroughly defeated little bundle of femininity.

Aurore was shuffling miserably behind!!

I jerked Bernadette toward me as if I was chastising her. I knew she would blow the entire thing if I didn't shut her up fast. I whispered fiercely, "Keep trusting me," and threw her to the floor. I tried to avoid injuring her. It hurt me to do it. But I needed her to NOT react.

I said eagerly, "What a beauty mon-ami!! I must have her. Please show me a room immediately."

Then I gestured toward Aurore and added, "And bring this little morsel with you. I will provide my own possession." I picked up Bernadette and carried her down the hall.

Marcel followed dragging a whimpering Aurore behind him. I said, in a tone of voice that brooked no argument, "I'll take it from here." Then, I handed Marcel the bag of francs and slammed and locked the door.

Aurore didn't raise her eyes until the door closed. That was when Bernadette threw her arms around her friend, crying and gasping with relief. Aurore looked up startled, saw me, saw Bernadette and let out an ungodly shriek of recognition. There was an infinite degree of pain and desperation in it. It was heartbreaking.

Aurore had screamed so loudly that Marcel was back to pounding on the door. But, it was locked. He yelled, "Do not damage her!! We will kill you, if you do."

I said contemptuously, "That was just a cry of shame. Don't you know how to train your women!" I heard him walking away muttering to himself.

That was when two sobbing bundles hit me like the Paris-Simplon express. I threw my arms around both of them and just held them. It took several minutes to get them to stop crying. It took several more to get Aurore rational enough to talk to us.

I said as gently as I could, "We are going to get you out of here. But I have to find out what we are up against. Do you know enough about this place to tell me who is in the building right now?"

Aurore nodded eagerly and said through her tears, "There are two guards, Jacques and Pierre. Besides Marcel and Madame Ferlin there are five of us girls."

I had seen four. I asked, "Where is the other one."

Aurore sniffed and said miserably, "There was a customer last week. He was a German. He liked to inflict pain. She is in the bedroom across the hall recovering."

Then she burst into tears and said, "She was my only friend. Her name is Stephanie and she is from a very good family in Lyon. Her parents were both killed." I added another count to Marcel's indictment.

I said with grim fury, "We are going to rescue everybody. But first I have to eliminate anyone who might object to us leaving."

I looked sternly at Aurore and said, "There are only two guards, yes? There are none elsewhere?"

Aurore said, "Only Jacques and Pierre are present at this time. There are six in total. But, they do not live here, and there are no Germans in the house at this hour."

I said, "Smart girl - good." Then I turned to Bernadette and handed her the pistol. I said, "There is only one bullet. If somebody comes in, don't miss."

Bernadette gave me a resolute look and said, "I cannot miss from only a foot away. I want to look them in the eye as they die." After what she had witnessed, Bernadette was an exquisite little ball of hate. I didn't blame her.

I put my brass knuckles on and started to slip out the door. Then something occurred to me. I said, "I'm going to eliminate the muscle, now. So, distract them with a little sound. They are going to expect a lot of sexual music from this room."

I heard loud moans and cries of abandoned passion as I started down the hall. It was excellent cover. But, it gave me pause. If a woman can be that convincing without any male present, how much of what I'm hearing in the actual situation is due to me; and how much is just the woman putting on a show? Makes you wonder doesn't it?

I had known that Marcel would eventually try to kill me. I was a loose end, AND I had disrespected him in front of his crew. So, the first thug was posted at the end of the hall; just as I had anticipated. This guy was the biggest of the two, and he was idly holding a Walther at his side.

Since I couldn't warn the others, I had to eliminate this dude quickly and without a fuss. Fortunately, he had his back to me, smoking what smelled like a Gauloises.

The human neck is necessary because it gives the skull freedom of movement. But it is also the body's greatest point of vulnerability. My arms and shoulders were fashioned by ten-hour days of repetitive lifting. The man's neck had nothing like my strength. Besides, he was relaxed, enjoying a smoke.

Consequently, it was a simple matter to suddenly and abruptly grab his head from behind and give it a violent twist. There was a resounding "snap" and the guard dropped the gun and sagged lifeless.

I didn't pick it up. There were still four guards somewhere else, and there were always the Germans. I didn't want to alert anybody by conducting a shooting match. I leaned the dead guard against the wall. Then I went hunting for his friend.

The other guard was sipping coffee at a table in the salon. The Madam was sitting with him. I strode rapidly toward my target. It took him a fatal second to register what was happening. By then, it was too late.

I covered the intervening distance in three long strides and immediately launched a heavy right hook at his midsection. It had all my weight and strength behind it.

Aside from the one guard's orders to kill me, they were just doing their job. So, I only planned on putting this one out of action. Unfortunately, he started to twist to evade me.

The result was devastating. Because he was twisting toward me, the blow caught him on his sternum, right above his heart; instead of in his ribs where I'd aimed it. A shot like that, with all my strength behind it, at that point of impact, cracks the breastbone and stops the heart. His eyes rolled up and he plopped down lifeless.

The Madam shrieked. I grabbed her. She pulled a little knife out of a garter. I deflected it by raising my shoulder and she stabbed me in the left deltoid. It hurt like a bitch, but any higher and it would have been into my neck.

I caught her knife hand with my left and squeezed until she dropped it. Then, I dragged her up the hall, opened the door and threw her in with the girls.

It was Marcel's turn now. As I walked back down the hall I began to hear thudding in the room. Then a blood curdling scream. I had given Bernadette my flick-knife. I suspected she was putting it to good use.

Marcel came rushing up the hall. I met him at the end. Actually, that statement is not quite accurate. My right fist, sans the brass knuckles, met him at the end of the hall. I didn't want him dead; yet!

He hit the ground like a poleaxed steer. I grabbed him by his ankles and hauled him back to the room, head bumping on the carpet. By my count, the bag was now complete.

I opened the door, dragged Marcel inside, then closed and locked it. The Madam was lying huddled in the middle of the floor, naked and sobbing. Apparently, the only thing that Bernadette had done with the knife, was cut her clothes off. My fierce little wildcat was brandishing the gun at her now.

Aurore, who, no doubt, had her fill of violence over the past month, was standing off in a corner looking like she was about to throw-up. I tossed Marcel's limp form next to the Madam. I said to Aurore, "The two guards are dead. Are these two the only ones we need to be worried about now?"

Aurore looked at me with misery in her eyes and said, "Yes Monsieur, these are our captors."

I said to Bernadette, "Take Aurore and Madame Ferlin and round up the girls. I will meet you in the salon."

Bernadette gestured with the gun. Madame Ferlin rose warily, eyeing Bernadette. Bernadette fired a shot into the floor, right between the Madame's feet, thereby using up her last round.

It pissed me off. I had intentionally tried to avoid making any type of noise that might attract attention. But, Bernadette was gripped by out-of-control fury. She had seen and heard too much.

It turned out to be a masterstroke. The Madam didn't know that the gun was empty, and its noise made an eloquent point. She shrieked in terror and scampered naked toward the door. I couldn't help noticing that; as old as she was, she had a body to die for.

Yep, I'm still a hound.

The door to the room closed, leaving me and the mastermind behind. I squatted down next to him and slapped him awake. He opened his eyes groggily and then a look of fear came over his face.

It was utterly gratifying. I was an avenging angel, come to smite the ungodly with the sure swift sword of Old Testament justice, and he knew it.

I said coldly, "You are going to die now. I wish I could put all of your victim's suffering into your death. But I can only kill you once."

He crapped himself and then began to sob like a little girl. I said, "Think about your sins as my fingers close around your throat. Maybe God will forgive you but nobody here on earth is going to."

He said, "Please Monsieur, show me mercy."

I laughed and said, "Just like the mercy you showed all the families you murdered and all the women you raped and enslaved?"

His eyes got a look of resignation. I slowly placed my fingers on his neck. It takes six minutes for the brain to die. I looked into his eyes throughout that entire process. I wanted him to see what just retribution looked like.

I suppose you think of me as mindlessly cruel. I probably am. But don't judge me too harshly. Because, you have the same potential. It only takes the right inducement, to coax it out of its hiding place.

It might have been more difficult to strangle the guy, if I had not spent the whole journey tapping into my personal wellspring of visceral rage. But, the pure horror of the past week, the human misery I'd witnessed, had temporarily unleashed the beast, always lurking in the dark corner of everybody's soul.