brown stone cottages with a stream running through it. We parked the car on a side street and walked to the address Brutus's research department had traced through the telephone number we'd given them. It was a small house on the edge of town and it appeared to be deserted. There was no blue sedan around and the door was locked.
We moved around to the back and I looked in through a small leaded-glass window. I saw no one. I took an adjustable key from my pocket, one of the many devices provided by Hawk's Special Effects and Editing boys, and manipulated the lock with it. In a moment, a tumbler clicked and the door opened. I pulled Wilhelmina out and stepped cautiously inside. I moved slowly through a rustic kitchen into a living room, then into a bedroom. When I returned to the living room, Heather was checking the house out for "bugs." There were none.
I had just about decided that there was little point in hanging around when I found the overnight case stashed in a small closet. It had all the necessary male toilet articles in it, and they had been recently used. I looked around some more and spotted a crumpled but fresh cigarette butt in a wastebasket. The cigarette was one of the three British brands preferred by Russians and other East Europeans.
"Novosty beat us here," I told Heather. "And he'll be back."
"Yes," she said, "and he's already had company." She showed me two liqueur glasses she had found in a kitchen cupboard, recently used and left unwashed.
I smiled, leaned down and brushed her cheek with my lips. "Very good," I said She looked at me as if she wanted more, then quickly looked around. I had a difficult time remembering what I was there for.
"There is a man named Koval," Heather said, her eyes on the glasses she was holding. "He's a Russian agent who has been seen in this area and who has a liking for this type of liqueur. Stanislas Koval."
"Apparently he's Novosty's new subordinate," I said "They may be out recruiting more agents right now."
"Koval would be able to call on a number of men he has already cleared," Heather said.
"That's right. But we have a small advantage now. We're here and they don't know it."
Heather was wearing a corduroy skirt and one of those braless jersey shirts — I could see the contours of her nipples through the clinging material. It was no different from what all the other girls were wearing in the new days of female emancipation, but on Heather — and under the circumstances — it was distracting and frustrating. I think she knew it bothered me and was rather enjoying it. I tore my eyes away from those nipples and went to the kitchen to relock the back door. Then I replaced the overnight case and cigarette butt while Heather put the dirty glasses back into the cupboard where she had found them.
"Now," I said, "we'll wait." Deliberately I let my gaze travel over the jersey blouse and down to where the short corduory shirt stopped at mid-thigh. "Do you have any suggestions as to where?"
She gave me just a hint of a smile. "The bedroom?"
I returned her smile. "Of course," I said.
We moved into the bedroom and closed the door. Heather went to the one window and looked outside. "Very quiet out there," she said, turning back to me and tossing her purse on the bed. "We just may have ourselves a long wait."
"We just might, and I don't propose to waste it."
I moved close to her, circled her waist with my hands and started to draw her to me. She arched her back so that the soft curves of her pressed against me.
"I've been looking forward to this," I said, placing a kiss on her neck just under the blond hair.
"I've been wanting you ever since you walked into Brutus's office," she whispered back.
She helped me off with my jacket and Wilhelmina and then my shirt. I was undoing the catch that held her skirt up. In a moment it dropped to the floor. She stood there in sheer lace panties, all willowy curves and softness, her skin milky white and smooth as velvet.
"We