The Adventures of Modesty Blaise
Episode 1 The Lhasa Incident
This pathetic effort is a parody and is only remotely intended to
resemble the characters created by Peter
O’Donnell. Other than the
names and images of some of the characters all work is original and any
resemblance to any of Mr. O’Donnell’s works is purely
accidental.
Chapter 4 The
Reunion
“UGGHN!”
Modesty grunted as Rawlins thrust into
her. He had bent her face down
over a packing case and was enjoying her from behind, alternating between
taking her vaginally and anally.
Her wrists were bound tightly behind her and she could not offer the
least resistance.
With a groan of satisfaction Rawlins heaved himself
off Modesty’s exhausted body.
Every part of her hurt, from her bruised backside and tormented breasts
to her burning vagina. True to
his word Rawlins had spent the best part of the last three days
“shagging” her as he put it in every possible position he could
think of.
“Modesty, darling,” Rawlins
panted. “I’d like to
keep this up. But I’ve a
rendezvous to keep. The Chinese
await, and I don’t want to chance a sudden storm closing the
pass.”
He had taken to calling her Modesty rather than
Miss Blaise. After all, as he
had pointed out, they were hardly strangers
anymore. By now Rawlins knew
every part of her body, from her bruised cheekbones and swollen lips, to
her inflamed vulva and aching nipples.
Rawlins liked his sex a “bit rough” and Modesty was in no
position to deny him anything that he
wanted. However, it was with
mixed feelings that she heard Rawlins announce that they would soon be moving
out. She doubted that the nightly
sessions would end and so far Rawlins had taken the utmost care in ensuring
that she did not escape. She
doubted that he would be any less careless on the march and every step would
take her closer to her appointment with the
Chinese.
She watched from her position on the floor of the
tent as he pulled on his clothes.
“Time to get some sleep,” Rawlins
said. “I suggest you try
to do the same. We’ve got
a bit of a march the next few days.”
Modesty made no effort to answer Rawlins’ mocking
comment. Each session with him
left her dehydrated and so sore and fatigued she could barely
move. In a few minutes the Tibetan
woman would show up and help her onto her pallet and cover her with
blankets. She would also check
her bonds to make sure none of the ropes had worked loose and that there
was no danger of her circulation being cut
off. If this was noticed Rawlins
would be alerted and he would change the position of the ropes, but she was
never released and in spite of her best efforts she had never been able to
loosen the ropes enough to have the slightest chance of
escaping. All she could do was
hope that the march to the Tibetan border might give her some opportunity
to get away. The only factor
in her favour was that Rawlins left her in the tent where the supplies were
kept rather than staying with her all
night. Being forced to sleep
with him in addition to being sexually molested would have been unbearable.
Modesty remained draped over the crate, too done
in to even move. In her pain
and exhaustion it took her awhile to realize that Rawlins had made a
mistake. For the first time since
taking her prisoner he had neglected to tie her ankles to her
wrists. It was an opportunity
she could not pass up. With a
moan she moved so that she was in a sitting
position. Every movement was
agony, but she knew she would have no other
chance. Gritting her teeth she
forced her bound wrists over her backside and then down her thighs, and over
her feet until her hands were in front of
her. Then using her strong white
teeth she worked at the knots until her wrists were
free.
The effort left her almost too done in to stand,
but she forced herself to her feet.
Something had delayed Hariti, and she dared not waste the
opportunity. She pulled her clothes
on, ignoring the pain and fatigue that dragged at her
body. She finished just as the
tent flap was pulled aside.
“WHERE the bloody ‘ell could they have
gone?” Willie Garvin muttered to no one in
particular. “They can’t
just have vanished into thin air.”
He looked gloomily over the edge of the 1,000 foot drop that ran next
to the track they were on. They
had been searching for Modesty and Rawlins for three days, following the
track they must have taken, but had found not the faintest sign of either
of them. Even when crossing
meadowlands that should have yielded good sign they had found not the slightest
trace. He turned to Abhik, the
guide and head porter. “Is
there any other way they could have gone?”
Abhik shook his
head. “I know of a few tracks
suited only for
tahr,” he said,
referring to the Himalayan deer that frequented the high
ranges. “But I will check
with the others.” He went
back to the other porters and spoke.
A lively discussion ensued for about thirty seconds and then he
returned. “Aadesh, says
there is another trail, but no one uses it since it takes twice as long to
travel and is frequently closed by snow.”
“Right then,” Willie
said. “Let’s get on
it. Which way is this
trail?”
Abhik shrugged
apologetically. “A day’s
march back the way we came.”
Willie cursed.
Why were things never easy?
MODESTY caught Hariti completely off-guard and it
was just as well. The mountain
woman proved to be tougher than she looked and put up a bit of a struggle
before Modesty subdued her.
Crouched on the floor, with her hands behind her back Hariti did not
realize that Modesty was free until it was too
late. The dim light in the tent
helped and she was on the woman before she realized what was
happening.
Modesty clamped her hand over Hariti’s mouth
while at the same time using her weight to bowl her off her
feet. The Tibetan woman was wiry
and tough, but Modesty outweighed her by a good thirty pounds and she went
down with a thump, the impact knocking the wind out of
her. Even so she continued to
fight even while struggling to breathe.
Modesty pinned her down and sought the pressure point on Hariti’s
neck that would cut off the blood flow of the carotid
artery. She found it and almost
instantly the woman went limp.
Modesty released her
immediately. There was a fine
line between causing unconsciousness and death and she didn’t want to
overdo it. Using the same ropes
she had been tied with she bound and gagged Hariti and then thought about
the next step in her plans.
The brief struggle had pushed to closer to the edge
of physical collapse. She knew
that she could not hope to take on Rawlins and the men he had hired in her
present condition, at least not openly.
However, it was very likely that at this time of night most of them
would be sleeping. She sat for
a minute and then pushed herself to the tent
flap. Slowly she pushed her head
through the opening and surveyed the
camp. A single Sherpa sat before
the fire. The others, she guessed
were in the other tents.
She needed a weapon, but Rawlins had taken everything
from her that might resemble anything
threatening. However, Modesty
was nothing if not resourceful.
Noting that the single sentry’s back was to her she moved silently
around to the side of the tent and began to work on one of the tent
pegs. It took her a minute or
so to work it loose. In her weakened
condition she did not hurry, wanting to conserve her
strength. She tugged the tent
peg free and wrapped her fingers around
it. It was not her kongo, but
it would do until she got it back.
She continued around the back of the tent, moving
silently, feeling with each foot before she put her weight on
it. She would take out the lone
sentry first and then deal with the
others. Just the width of the
tent from the sentry she crept forward, every footstep
calculated. The tent peg was
one foot of hardwood. It was
not quite as convenient as her kongo, but it would have to
do.
Just before striking she made a small
noise. It was enough to cause
the sentry’s head to turn, exposing his left
temple. The blunt edge of the
tent peg slammed into it with brutal
precision. The man gave a small
grunt and collapsed toward the fire.
Modesty reached out and pulled him from the flames, but not for any
reason of mercy. Any man that
would stand by and let another rape a helpless woman deserved no compassion,
but letting him burn would be messy at the very least, and she had seen
unconscious men awake screaming when subjected to fire.
She looted the sentry’s body, discovering a
World War I vintage Lee-Enfield, a sheath knife and an ammunition
pouch. “Better than what
I had,” Modesty thought. But
she did not intend to shoot her way into the tents of her
captors. At least not until she
was sure of how many there were.
And there was one in particular she wanted to take
alive.
She entered the tent closest to her
next. This time she used the
knife. It packed a bit more weight
than the tent peg and had the advantage of a blade in case things started
to go wrong. There were three
men in the tent and none of them heard a thing as she took them out with
the hilt of the knife one after the
other. They would have very bad
headaches, but they would probably live.
Rawlins tent was the
last. Not unexpectedly he slept
alone. And he was most surprised
to see her. Him she did not render
unconscious, but he probably wished she
had. One hour and many muffled
screams later she left the tent, tossing the bloody knife away from
her. Her face blank, she bound
the still unconscious porters and then dragged them out of their
tent. She couldn’t bring
herself to sleep in the tent where Rawlins had raped her, but her nightly
activities had drained her of the last of her strength and she was almost
out on her feet. Crawling into
the tent she barely made it into the blankets before she lapsed into a deep
sleep.
SHE AWOKE to
screaming. Even so, it was with
some effort that she was able to toss aside the blankets and force herself
to her feet. If her body had
hurt yesterday, it was even worse today.
But somehow, some of her strength seemed to have
returned. Picking up one of the
rifles and making sure that her Berretta was strapped about her waist she
cautiously exited the tent.
It was broad daylight and from the position of the
sun, about noon. The screaming
was coming from the porters she had tied up after rendering them
unconscious. Apparently upon
awakening, they had found being hogtied somewhat unacceptable and were screaming
as loudly as they could to be untied.
It didn’t take Modesty long to convince them that nothing of
the sort was going to happen.
Instead, she made sure that their ropes were secure, and then gathered
up enough food and gear to get her back to the place where Rawlins had lured
her away from Willie. Without
a backward glance she left the camp and headed back the way she had
come.
She didn’t go
far. She did not have the energy
for that. She walked for an hour
and then stopped to eat some of the food she had brought with
her. Next to rest she needed
food, and she soon had a pot on the boil while she munched on a handful of
nuts and raisins. After eating
she walked down the trail a bit more until she came to a place where she
could leave the trail and set up camp.
It allowed her to look back the way she had come just in case any
of the men she had left behind had decided to follow
her. However, she doubted she
would be followed. All of the
men Rawlins had hired were plainly terrified of her, and she had tossed all
of the breech blocks of the rifles over the edge of a cliff expect the one
she had kept for herself.
Placing her blankets under a rock overhang she crawled
into them and let their warmth lull her to
sleep. This time she slept
undisturbed.
WILLIE GARVIN gasped for breath in the high
atmosphere. He had been pushing
himself much too hard and was very close to paying the price of attitude
sickness, but he was frantic to close the gap between himself and
Rawlins. After backtracking for
a day Abhik had found the concealed path leading off the main trail and the
place where something had happened between Modest and
Rawlins.
To a man who knew about the techniques of ambush
the signs could be read like a book.
Rawlins’ footprints were directly behind those of Modesty and
then there was a clear handprint in the mud of the trail where she had tried
to catch herself when she fell. For
whatever reason Rawlins had chosen to attack Modesty from behind; and then
there were the other five men he had met up
with. It was obviously a preplanned
abduction and Willie had no problem figuring out at least two of Rawlins’
motives.
He had never liked the way the man had looked at
Modesty. Although Rawlins had
tried to disguise his interest in Modesty Willie had seen through his
disinterested façade. He
had seen men look at Modesty that way many times, but most men just looked
and managed to keep their lust bridled.
He had no idea whether Rawlins was one of those or
not. And, of course, there was
a simpler motive. MI5 agents
were notoriously underpaid. It
wouldn’t have taken much to turn Rawlins to the other
side. Whatever the reason or
reasons, Rawlins had clearly kidnapped Modesty and what he might be doing
to her pushed him on to the point of physical
collapse.
“Mr.
Garvin. You must
stop. You kill yourself this
way. Then you no find Miss
Blaise.”
Willie stopped to stare at Abhik and then
nodded. With a grunt he sat down
on a nearby rock ledge overlooking the always spectacular mountain
scenery. “How far ahead
do you reckon they are?”
“Three days,” Abhik
said. “But much longer if
you get sick.”
Willie swore silently, but Abhik was
right. “Right, we’ll
rest ‘ere for an hour. But
then we’ll push on. We
can’t let them get any farther
ahead.” One of the Sherpas
got a fire going and began to brew up some
tea. At this elevation the water
boiled at such a low temperature that the tea could be drunk almost straight
away. Given his choice Willie
would have preferred something else, but he had to admit it was
invigorating.
Willie was on his feet before the hour was over,
but there was no rushing Abhik. He
insisted that they wait until he was sure Willie would not exhaust
himself.
“You
lowlander. Not have lungs
like me. Take it
easy. Remember Rawlins can go
no faster than you.”
“Rawlins can’t go anywhere at
all.” Modesty Blaise strode
into view, walking down the trail as if she had been out for a recreational
stroll.
Willie was moving toward her in an
instant.
“Princess…”
She stopped him with a glance.
“I’m alright, Willie,” Modesty said
striding toward him. She didn’t
have to say anything more. Modesty
would tell him anything he needed to
know. But he knew that
look.
“Right, princess,” he
said. “Would you like a
cuppa?”
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