Deepika Padukone and the Earthquake man

[hotaks]

Deepika Padukone and the Earthquake man


Deepika made herself conserve her energy and didn’t fight while her ankles were bound tightly together with loop after loop of strong nylon rope. She bit her lip when he dragged her wrists and ankles together and secured them with a fresh length of cord, grunting with the effort of pulling every knot tight to the limits of his strength. He stood up, leaving her hogtied and helpless on the cold metal floor, and nudged her with his booted foot.

‘To be honest, fucking you would be fun, but killing you is going to be better.’

He produced a key and unlocked the grating, hauling it open to unveil the black pit beneath. Turning to Deepika, he grabbed her by her bound wrists and ankles and heaved her up into the air, smiling at her grimace when he held her dangling powerlessly in his grip, her body arched back uncomfortably.

‘Ok, spy bitch. Time for you to go. Take a last look round.’

Her eyes widened as she was swung round towards the gaping hole in the floor.

‘No, wait!’

Her instinctive protest was in vain and she squeezed her eyes shut, tensing in fear at feeling herself dropped and plummeting down into the dark. Mercifully after ten feet she crashed down into something soft and yielding and she heard the laughter of the watching men from above.

‘How’s that feel? Comfortable?’

She opened her eyes and took in her new surroundings. She lay immobilized on her belly in the midst of a heap of discarded food cartons, plastic bottles, waste paper and congealed food leavings. Stirred up by the impact of her fall, a nauseating odor of mouldering waste rose up around her. Disgustedly she realized she was lying on something wet and clingy.

‘Urrgh. Gross.’

She twisted sideways, and with a gasp of alarm realized she had set off a miniature avalanche in the garbage pile. Helplessly she slid down towards the corner of the chamber, pelted by the trash falling along with her, and ended up twisted over on her side half buried in a deposit of potato peelings and long-cold baked beans. The men clustered round the hatch laughed harder than ever.

‘Whoops!’ Norton mocked her. ‘Careful, now, I wouldn’t like to think of some of the stuff that’s been dumped down here.’

‘You’re a sick man, Norton,’ she called back, struggling uselessly against her bonds. He chortled merrily.

‘Hey, I’m not so bad. You’re only going to be down there around ten or fifteen minutes. That’s when the sluice gates open, the ocean pours in there, and you’ll be washed out onto the seabed with the rest of the garbage! So that’s something for you to think about as you lie there in your heap of kitchen scraps.’

Deepika craned her neck from side to side and with her eyes becoming adjusted to the gloom was able to make out the thickly greased cogs, wheels and pistons of the machinery which would lift the walls at either end of the chamber. She shivered.

‘So bye bye now,’ continued Norton’s taunting voice. ‘I can’t tell you how happy I am that your last few minutes of life were spent being humiliated by me!’

‘I bet you used to wet the bed till you were twelve!’ she shouted back at him. The only reply was the sonorous clang of the grate slamming back into place, and the click of the padlock fastening it.

‘Ah well - not my snappiest comeback ever anyway,’ she muttered under her breath. She lay and listened to Norton giving orders to his men.

‘Right, all of you back to your duties. Except you. You stay right here. This grating stays locked till I come back to check, understand?’

‘Sir,’ came the dutiful response, and the heavy tramp of boots on metal floors accompanied Norton’s departure with the rest of his escort.

‘Bastard.’

Deepika scowled and tested the strength of the ropes which bound her, twisting this way and that in search of something which might slip or stretch, but Norton had tied his knots with the skill and thoroughness of a professional. They were like iron, and she felt a dryness in her throat, a light fluttering in her belly, at the first inkling that this might finally be a situation she couldn’t improvise her way out of. She thrust the idea back down inside where it belonged, and thrashed around with all her strength to roll over and start an investigation of her prison.

Her body was slimed with the various sticky substances she had fallen and rolled in, her hair clogged with something chunky and half-solidified. She made herself ignore it and with another twist knocked over a fresh heap of trash. A dozen glass bottles rattled onto the floor.

‘Haven’t you people heard of recycling?’ she yelled up at the unheeding guard at the hatch.

She writhed along, inching forward like a worm across the floor and leaving a track through the garbage behind her, when her eyes widened to circles.

‘Oh, my,’ she murmured. ‘I wonder what else they don’t recycle?’

With a fresh burst of energy she managed to scoop out the bottom of another pile of trash with her knees and bring it tumbling down. Her eyes searched through the results as avidly as if they were prizes in a lucky dip, and her white teeth flashed exultantly when she found what she was looking for...

It was a discarded soup can, opened with its razor-edged top still attached. She gazed at it like it was gold and jewels.

‘Yes! Result!’

She reminded herself to keep her voice down and rolled over to grab the can with her bound hands. With a deep breath she made herself take her time and work with precision. Slowly, painstakingly, she started to saw her way one strand at a time through the ropes on her wrists. Minutes passed and she froze tensely at the sound of a great clank of machinery from behind the doors, but they remained closed and she closed her eyes for a second, gathering her calm, then set to work again.

Another strand was severed, then another, then another... And then there was another, louder clank, and a great rushing of water hurtling towards her. In one last desperate effort Deepika arched her back and pulled, every muscle in her well-toned body straining at once. The last frayed strands of the rope stretched, held... and snapped! Disorientatingly she was suddenly free, only her ankles remaining tied together. As the mighty steel door groaned open and the waters of the Atlantic flooded in upon her, she leaped like a dolphin, over the initial surge, and gripped a pipe of the hydraulics which operated the gate. An instant later she was submerged, the freezing torrent tearing at her, dragging at her, working to break her hold and carry her away to her doom. Bubbles of precious air emerged between her clenched teeth as she hung on.

‘At least I’ll go clean,’ she reflected as the sea washed the garbage from her hair and skin.

Her grip slipped little by little. One finger came loose from her hold completely and still the waters roared through the chamber. How long did the sluicing process take? How long?

* * *

A full hour later, Norton came marching back down the passageway to the grating where his appointed guard snapped to attention.

‘At ease,’ he grunted, throwing the man a careless salute. ‘Anything to report?’

‘No, sir,’ said the guard. ‘Haven’t heard anything since the waters came through. There was some noise before that.’

Norton smiled grimly, imagining the captive’s frantic attempts to struggle free.

‘All right, let’s check.’

He clicked on the heavy flashlight in his hand and shone the beam down through the bars, sweeping it from side to side to pick out the corners of the empty chamber below. There was nothing but wet, gleaming metal and puddles of seawater. Still Norton wasn’t satisfied.

‘Let’s open it up.’

Setting the flashlight aside, he used his key to unfasten the padlock. He was leaning forward, scanning the murky depths for any sign of movement, and totally unprepared when Deepika’s feet whipped up and crashed into the metal grate.

Clinging like a limpet to the ceiling support bars, she kicked upwards with the explosive power that came with knowledge that this was her one and only chance. The heavy steel cover burst upwards and struck Norton a shattering blow on the underside of his chin. He slumped limply forward and tumbled down through the hole to the steel floor below.

With the smooth power and agility of a trapeze artist Deepika swung her legs back for a fresh effort, then flipped herself up through the hatch, somersaulting feet first into the face of the dumbstruck guard who was still scrabbling clumsily for his gun when he found himself suddenly grappling face to face with a naked woman. Deepika stunned him with a jab of her elbow right between his eyes and drew his gun for him, Whirling around, she saw Norton drawing his own weapon, the black hole of its muzzle focusing hungrily upon her...

He was quick but she was a little quicker. A single sharp report filled the cramped corridor and a black stain spread on his shirt just above his heart. Norton’s face was a mask of hatred, his hand clinging onto his gun like grim death, his finger trembling on the trigger but lacking the strength to pull it. His eyes blurred and rolled up, and he died mouthing soundless curses.

Deepika watched him slump to the floor.

‘With the rest of the garbage,’ she murmured.

A sound behind her snapped her back to the present and in single smooth motion she turned on the dazed guard and flattened him with a sharp blow to the chin. She inspected his unconscious form thoughtfully. He was a smallish man, and pretty slim. Not exactly her size, but near enough.

* * *

She astonished herself with her own relief at the simple pleasure of wearing clothes again. Marching down the corridor to the control room, the guard’s military cap drawn well down over her face, passing men still eyed her body with yearning but she took on the self-confident swagger that came with the knowledge that they weren’t able to see it for real. She was enjoying herself. She swayed her hips to give them something to watch while she walked away from them.

Deepika slipped cautiously into the control room. A lucky break - the Professor wasn’t here. Still enjoying himself with some unfortunate girl from the maintenance unit, perhaps. Nonchalantly she strolled over to the control panels. No one moved to stop her or even glanced in her direction. She operated the controls as Q had instructed her, tapped in the code the Professor had given her, then pulled the big red lever.

A hundred alarms went off at once. Sirens shrieking in their ears, the technicians stumbled about in bewilderment and one by one turned to stare at Deepika. She gave them a little wave and a smile.

‘Yeah, hi. I’m told you’ve got ten minutes to evacuate the base. And the guy who told me that, I’ve found that sometimes things don’t take as long as he says they will, so you might want to get running right now.’

* * *

The complex was in chaos. Alarms still shrieking, the corridors were thronged with confused, panicking people struggling past one another with vague and contradictory ideas as to the best escape route. Half the escape subs were gone. People were starting to fight over those that remained.

In the midst of this, Professor Alcibiades shoved his way grim-faced through his disorganized staff. His perfect plan destroyed, all that was left was to get to his personal limosub and put some distance between himself and the British government’s retribution. And it was all the fault of that pesky secret agent whom he should have had shot the moment he saw her. Next time they met he would...

A strong hand grasped his collar and yanked him sideways through a door. Floundering to regain his balance, he stumbled back and found himself staring at Agent W7's grinning face.

‘You!’ he roared. ‘You meddlesome hussy! You have brought this calamity down upon me! I’ll kill you!’

He swung a punch but hit nothing but air. The young woman seemed to vanish, then pop up again out of nowhere and the next instant something exploded against his jaw and he was down on his knees, the world spinning crazily around him.

‘See now,’ came that mocking, infuriating voice. ‘I was all set to run back to the docking bay, pick up my scuba gear and leave with the rest of the rats, and then I thought “What about the Professor?” Do I really want to foil your plan and then hear you’ve done exactly the same thing somewhere else a couple of years from now? No, I think it’s best you stay right here.’

Deepika hauled her captive up to her feet by the scruff of his neck and threw him forward onto the arched platform with the steel wrist and ankle clamps. She was trying to keep this all business. Securing Alcibiades into place stretched out on the dais, she tried to pretend it wasn’t fun to do this to him at the scene of her own humiliation.

‘Release me!’ he roared, his skull-like face raising from the plastic surface. ‘I’ll kill you!’

‘Have you any idea how silly you look trying to threaten me while tied down to a table?’

Alcibiades struggled furiously against the steel clamps which he himself had designed. He sucked in a breath and addressed his captor with a sort of smile.

‘All right, Agent W7, you win. I congratulate you. Let me up and I’ll write you out a check right now for one million pounds. Don’t tell me there isn’t something you’ve always wanted that you could buy with that money.’

‘Well...’ Deepika scratched her head and considered. ‘I suppose I could watch a mass-murdering rapist die. Oh, wait. I can do that without your money. Cheerio.’

‘You filthy little whore!’ he screamed as she turned her back. ‘Someone someday will fuck your worthless slut’s body and throw what’s left to the dogs and I just wish I could be there to see it!’

He was red-faced, boiling with anger, all thoughts of self-preservation gone. But when she turned back to face him it was the very calm stillness of her wide, dark eyes which silenced him. They were not the eyes of a laughing bimbo who’d somehow got lucky, but a deadly professional he suddenly realized he’d been facing all along. She spoke lightly.

‘Fighting words from a man tied down to his own spanking machine.’

She stalked back towards him and in a single violent move yanked his pants down to his knees, baring a pair of pale, hairy buttocks. Alcibiades gaped in disbelief.

‘You... you can’t be serious...’

The twinkle was back in her eye as she gave him a light slap on the backside and strolled towards the instrument panel.

‘Come on, where’s your sense of humor? Hey, it’s lucky I memorized the controls on this thing when your men used it on me isn’t it? Never know when these little bits and pieces of knowledge will come in handy.’

She flicked a row of switches and Alcibiades twisted frantically from side to side, trying to see what was happening at the sound of the hatches in the side of the machine clicking open. The paddles on their articulated arms hovered over him threateningly.

‘No, please!’

Deepika gave him a wink and a smile and flicked the final switch.

‘Cheer up, it won’t be for long. The base is going to blow in a few minutes anyway. Have fun.’

She darted away out of the side door, pursued down the corridor by a roar of pain and rage, and the pitiless thwack, thwack, thwack of paddles on bare flesh.

* * *

Watching the spy plane’s pictures of the ocean with a desperate hope bordering on despair, the assembled dignitaries of the crisis cabinet rocked back wide-eyed in their chairs at the sight of a great white mushroom of seawater surging up from the depths. The cataclysmic blast of the station’s self-destruction lifted a thousand tons of water high into the air and let it crash back down in a swirling greenish maelstrom of foam and spray. A disbelieving cheer rang around the cramped environment of the operations room. M felt the Prime Minister’s excited hands on his shoulders.

‘She did it! Your agent did it! I apologize for doubting you, M, you were right all along. She must be an extraordinary woman.’

‘Yes.’ M’s voice was somber, his eyes fixed on the destructive chaos depicted on the screen. ‘But where is she?’

* * *

On the beach at Torbay, the surfers made the most of the rippling waves and modest rollers of the English coast. It wasn’t exactly Bondi Beach but the sun was out, the sand shone like gold, and surfing was surfing.

Don Griffin was balancing his way along the crest of a two foot wave, making the best of it, when his eyes widened and before he knew what was happening the wave swelled beneath him like a living thing, hurling him up a hundred feet into the air. That moment of pulse-pounding shock while he struggled desperately to keep his balance atop this monster lasted a second before segueing into jubilant euphoria at what was happening. He was a surf hero, he was riding the big rollers like in the movies! Just as he’d always dreamed it, he crouched and posed and kept his balance till the great wave rushed in to shore and broke itself against the beach, soaking the astonished sunbathers who had thought themselves safely in the dry. Laughing like a maniac he rolled over in the wet sand, shook water from the tousled mess of his hair and whooped his perfect happiness.

‘Whoo! Yeah! Where did that come from? Hey, Jimmy, did you see... oh no!’

In mid-crow he saw something that knocked the exultation from him like a punch in the stomach. Motionless on the sand which still seethed and bubbled in the wake of the departing wave lay a young woman, her eyes closed, her limbs limp. Don sprinted over to her and dropped to his knees at her side.

She was lovely, he realized, an instant before feeling guilty about thinking that about a drowning victim. Her sodden dark hair fell back from her face, revealing the beauty of her porcelain features and lucious lips. The tattered remains of the olive-green pants and shirt which were her only garments clung to her skin and displayed her toned body. The single remaining button on her shirt strained to contain her pert little breasts and the dark circles of her nipples showed through the soaked material.

‘Ok, don’t panic,’ Don muttered to himself. ‘Mouth to mouth.’

He pulled the young woman’s mouth open with his fingertips, gently pinched her nose, and pressed his lips to hers...

His eyes widened when her tongue slipped past his teeth and flicked teasingly against the roof his mouth.

‘Mmm, don’t stop’, she murmured as he sat bolt upright. She gave him the dirtiest smile he had ever seen, her lips pouting and curling up at one corner. ‘I could go for being rescued by a handsome surfer right now.’

‘You’re ok?’ he asked, weak with relief.

‘In the pink.’ She swung her legs up over her head, then brought them swiftly down and used the momentum to roll adroitly to her feet. She winced, rubbing her buttocks. ‘Oww. Well, all except that bit.’

There was a rueful laughter in her dark, lively eyes and Don found himself standing there for a little too long staring raptly into them. He pulled himself together.

‘Er - we’re having a beach party at dusk. I don’t suppose you’d like to...’

‘Oh, I wish I could,’ she said airily. ‘But I have to head straight back to London for debriefing and then write out my report in triplicate.’

‘Oh,’ he said forlornly. ‘Ok, well I guess...’

She slapped him in the chest with the back of her hand and laughed.

‘Kidding!’ She fell against him and swooned theatrically in his arms, her gleaming breasts testing that one pesky button to its limits. ‘Carry me away, handsome rescuer!’

His heart pattering quickly in his excitement, Don gathered this mysterious, gorgeous creature up in his arms and started to carry her away across the sands. She linked her arms behind his neck and waved her feet idly in mid-air.

‘I don’t suppose there’s anyone round here who’d swap me a bikini for an exploding ballpoint pen with a cyanide capsule in the lid?’

THE END