The Lotus Eaters

Casa Linda, Balboa, Terra Nova

I get to the Volgans by killing at least one of my guards, Lourdes thought, then amended, No, be honest. I get to them by killing the one who obviously intends to rape me. But . . . how?

She looked around the bedroom. Patricio keeps a pistol under the mattress, but it will make noise . . . a LOT of noise. That will put an end to any escape. Knives? No . . . no, no knives here. But . . . aha!

`She kept a small desk in the bedroom, since by common, if unspoken, agreement with her husband that room was hers and he was just an invited guest. And on the desk was a large brass letter opener with an onyx handle.

I can't kill for beans with this, she thought, unless I can get it into his heart or his brain. And I'm not sure I'm strong enough to push it through the muscles on his chest. So brain it will have to be.

She suddenly felt nauseous at the thought of the thin, dull point driving through eye and bone. And then she considered how she was going get him into a position to drive the blow home. That made her more nauseous still.

But still . . ."Anything," Mac said. And . . . if this is what I think it is Patricio is a dead man and my girls orphans—assuming they're allowed to live—unless I act. So . . ."anything." Forgive me, Patricio.

Quickly, Lourdes began to undress. As she tugged at her clothing with one hand, the other took up the letter opener. Now where to put this? What piece of furniture am I going to defile?