* * * * *
"No dispares!" exclaimeed Vasco: "No dispares!* "
"Suelta el arma!" commanded Phillips: "Y manos arriba!"
The expatriate Portuguese bounty hunter complied; slowly lowering his remaining Schmeisser to the floor before raising both hands.
"Habla ingles?" Phillips then demanded.
"Sih!" Vasco nodded: "And you are American?"
"Yeah. Who are you and what are you doing here?"
"I am a double-crossed prisoner in the middle of retaliating against these bastardos. And I would gladly welcome your help!"
" 'Ask and ye shall receive,' " Phillips quoted with a smile.
Meanwhile, over in Laboratory Facility B, Brevet Flying Officer DeCoteau had split off from Senior Lt. Alexandrov after hearing the suspicious creaking of a floor board in a neighboring room. He carefully eased through the open doorway of that room...and immediately beheld a man-like silhouette spring up from behind a huge office desk and aim something at him.
The French-Canadian beat him to the draw, however. Swerving--and then firing--in one swift, smooth motion. Consequently, when he ceased firing his silenced grease gun, he went over to examine the body. Instantly discerning, in the firelight from the burning buildings outside, that it was a Waffen-SS trooper. When he turned back around, though, he had another nasty surprise waiting for him.
A 1934 Beretta 418 in .250 caliber...held by Dr. Santapietro.
"Who are-ah you? Americano? Inglese?"
"Canadienne," he corrected her: "And behind you is an armed Russian."
"Heh!" she snorted: "That-ah one is older than-ah you are."
"Nyet!" snarled a new, and unmistakably male, voice: "He speaks truth."
Needless to say, the lovely Italian doctor's posture immediately stiffened with caution. She then slowly and carefully recited a certain phrase...in fluent Russian!
["Have you ever heard the old song 'Volga Boatmen?' "]
Now, it was Senior Lt. Vassily Alexandrov's turn to be startled. Yet, even so, he still managed to reply:
"Da! [It should be re-titled 'Vulgar Boatmen.' "]
DeCoteau, who had understood every word they had said, exclaimed:
["What are you two talking about?!"]
Whereupon, Alexandrov swerved and fired his grease gun at the French-Canadian!!! And, it was only after the ill-fated glider pilot had slumped to the floor that Santapietro put her Beretta back into the right-hand pocket of her lab smock.
["You are the double-agent Tovarisch Major Yerkov told me of?"] Alexandrov asked.
She nodded.
["I am Tovarisch Frieda Petermann. Charter member of the German Communist Party. I was recruited into GRU, in Paris, before the war."]
["How may I assist you, Tovarisch Petermann?"]
["Fire this storm trooper's machine pistol into the Canadian's body. When the rest of your allies come running to investigate, tell them the trooper surprised him. But, that you managed to avenge him. Then, get me out of here...at all costs!"]
["But, what of the research data you were sent here to acquire?"]
["Let the Western imperialists take the paperwork! I have memorized the truly relevant material, entirely."]
["Very well, Tovarisch Petermann. It shall be done as you say.']
"Spasibha, Tovarisch Lieutenant."
Two seconds later, the dead trooper's burp gun was emptied into DeCoteau's body.
tbc
Giantess World
Author's Chapter Notes:
[...] = "translated from Russian."
Chapter End Notes:
* Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"
"Drop the gun! And hands up!"
Grease gun: WWII slang term for the M3-A3 submachine gun. A .45-caliber substitute for the tommy gun, nicknamed for its resemblance to an automotive lubricant dispenser!
"Drop the gun! And hands up!"
Grease gun: WWII slang term for the M3-A3 submachine gun. A .45-caliber substitute for the tommy gun, nicknamed for its resemblance to an automotive lubricant dispenser!